


Silver Memories

by blacksilks



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert, Romance, Some angst, This is a huge project and slow going
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-14 14:20:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 40,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3413831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blacksilks/pseuds/blacksilks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're just a normal girl, going on with your normal life and trying to make a living and pay your bills. That is, until the backup generator fails to kick in an you're stranded in darkness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, uhm, so, this may not be my first fanfiction but it is the first in quite a while, as well as the first Eyeless Jack AND reader insert I've ever done. Inspiration: Life.  
> About the story:
> 
> -Please be aware that the reader here is female, and although I tried writing without a gender in mind, sadly the gender just kind of... developed.  
> -You DO have a job, so be prepared for a desk job. I imagined reader being 20+ but if you squint hard enough you can make yourself younger (also, quite devoted to your career).  
> -Also, I apologize, however due to the current state of the story, your friends have been handpicked and named for you (hope you don't mind)  
> \- Please replace [Name] with your own name, [E/C] with your eye color, [H/L] with your hair length etc etc. Most os these things will be easy to guess what they are due to context.
> 
> \- I tried getting as much info on Jack as possible, however I am currently very new to the whole pastas. If anyone wants to give me a quick message and I can chat with em about ideas and stuff, I'd most gladly take the offer.
> 
> I do NOT promise I will be updating any time soon, as I sadly am quite the career focused freak and haven't written anything in years. I hope my muses don't desert me.  
> And last but not least, I don't own anything that could get me sued.

"Would you like to hear a story?

Good, are you listening? Make yourself comfortable, grab a blanket if you can, lay down or even sit down, and relax. I don't know how you feel right now, I can imagine it is cold and dark where you are, but then I really can't tell.

Oh, but I'm sorry, I almost started from the end and that just won't do. Every story, every life, begins the same. And to make it short, it's a beginning, it's birth. Hearing of your birth though would not make much of a difference, you know more about it than I could ever tell you, and for all intents and purposes it is unnecessary for me to repeat what you already yourself know.  
But all stories have a beginning, a middle and an end. You learnt this in school, you wrote it for your test, you memorized it then discarded it as unnecessary information later on.  
But let me tell you something, each story has a beggining.

And your story ends the same way it begins... In darkness."

You smiled, a sigh of relief escaping your lips as you hear the rustling of your colleagues packing up calling an end to the day. Not for you, of course, having worked so hard to finally get where you were, you also were expected to keep up the same level of devotion to the company. Having taken upon yourself the role as honorary supervisor to your project (without actually reaping the rewards apart from a, possible, pat on the shoulder and a warm "Thank you"), more often than not you'd stay after work for maybe an hour, helping your actual supervisor and team lead filling out reports and providing solutions or brainstorming necessary ideas for the day to come.

It could be a bit tedious of a job, but it gave you a living, and to be fair with yourself, you quite enjoyed working.

It thus of course came as no surprise as Cathelyn, the actual leader of the project, approached you with the request to double check some fact and make sure the progress was steady, and accepted the small pile of documents to go over.

You sighed, enjoyed the calm and peace of the office, the quiet silence soothing your frazzled nerves , like a balm for your still ringing ears. Working with hundreds of people in a relatively moderate sized office, where talking and joking was allowed and quite frequent, the decibel levels where a bit elevated during the day. On Fridays one could hear Rebecca Black screeching "It's Friday, Friday" in the halls, while on Mondays mourning songs and songs filled with doom filled the office area. You were happy you didn't work at a call-center anymore, but could definitely attest for the matching decibel levels during the day.

You concentrated and hadn't been working for 25 minutes when the power cut out. The entire office was suddenly bathed in blackness so thick you thought you could taste it, the air charged with the static of thousands of suddenly dead computers releasing their pent up energy into the air.  
Your groan was eerily loud in the now completely silent, quite large room, annoyed at all the progress you had lost. Great, you thought to yourself, extra work for me later.  
Cathelyn opened her door, which you could only tell by the general location of the sound of the door opening, shuffling quietly towards your seat. You heard a bump, a moan of pain, then heard her get closer before you could feel her presence at the general area you were sitting at.  
"[Name]?" her whisper broke the tense air, and you let out a sigh you had no idea why or even that you had been holding.

"Yeah I'm here, what happened?" you whisper back, [E/C] eyes blown wide open trying to discern anything in the inky blackness.

"The power went out." her statement of the obvious almost made your eyes roll, but a strange shuffling sound on the other far end made you both hold your breath quickly, heads turning toward the sound.

Voice lowering even more you turn your head towards the general vicinity where Cath had been standing "Y-you think theres-" your whisper is cut off as the woman calls out, a slight shake in her voice.

"H-hello? Is anyone t-there?"

Her question seems to be met with even more deafening silence, pressing down on your ears.  
You feel and hear her moving closer to you, settling a hand on the back of your chair.  
"The emergency lights should be coming up any moment now... back up generators here are quite old so they take a while to recognize the failure." she murmurs but you can hear a slight tremble in her voice.

This is stupid, you think. We're not 7 anymore, hiding under the blankets with the fear of the darkness. You would be able to see anything at all with the phone you have. You want to smack yourself as you remember the tiny light in your phone as you pull it out.

"How about we call it a night?" you murmur, pulling the phone out of your pocket. You fumble with it, turning the back light on and pointing it at the entrance of the offices, which, of course, was completely and utterly devoid of human life.

Cath's murmur of agreement is cut in half as another shuffling sound is heard, closer to you this time, at the same time as a loud "Bzzt" fills the room, the red otherworldly glow of the emergency lights filling the area. And it is then that your heart stops. You barely register Cathelyns surprised scream, as you stare wide eyed, at the figure standing not even 3 rows away from you. It is tall, very tall, all dressed in black or something of the sort, as the red light barely lets you distinguish it's contours let alone any coloring. You can tell from the shadows cast on his face that the figure, unsure if male or female, wore a hoody pulled low over it's face. You couldn't actually see any part of the face apart from its chin, which seemed to shine in the red light drifting from the walls. Unable to tell the color due to the hue, it seemed more like a glossy mask than actual skin. The figure stood for not even a second before it turned and fled the room, movements graceful and almost feline, even as you called after it to wait. It seemed to falter slightly at the sound of your voice, but you put it down to your imagination as it turned the corner and was gone.

You both shared a moment of silence, absolutely baffled by the events, before sharing a look, grabbing your personal belongings and bolting out of the room. Cathelyn was on the phone with the reception desk who really hadn't heard anything and had been able to turn on the light due to a malfunction in the original back up generator.

As she finally hung up, she turned to face you as you both stood at the exit of the building, unwilling to leave the still red light of the building and start your journey home.  
"You think that was just some employee?" you ask finally, breaking the uncomfortable silence between the both of you. She shrugs, pulling her coat closer to her body.

"I don't know to be honest. And I'm also not about to call the police because... I mean..." she trails off with another shrug, pulling her bag further up her shoulder.

You let out a small laugh, nodding, the put your hand to your ear as if holding a phone "Yes, uh, hi? The power died at our company and when it came back up there was a person standing in the room with us who then left after we screamed bloody murder." You let your hand fall down, an amused sound still clinging to your sigh. "We're nut jobs and that definitely was nothing."

She nods her agreement, yet still holding onto her jacket like her life depended on it, forcing it closed over her small frame. "In any case, [Name], it's getting late. You want a ride? My husbands picking me up in a little." it's a well meant offer but you also know she lives the complete opposite way of your own place and would mean an almost 2 hour detour to her journey.

"Nah, it's fine. Look, we got a bit of a scare but to be honest... it probably was just someone from the company below and, well, probably for embarrassed for being on the wrong floor or something." you reason, trying to make yourself believe your story.

You nod, as you sling your own bag over your shoulder, taking a few steps outside of the building. It's not cold, yet not warm either, the end of January bringing a few cold showers with it while some flowers break from the almost frozen ground here and there. You can't help but smile as you wave goodbye to the blonde woman shouting a quick "See you tomorrow" before stepping into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

The moment you step onto the road back home you stick your ear buds into your ears, pulling up your favorite tunes onto your phone. You check to see if you had gotten any new messages, the light of the phone throwing a pale glow on your face, as you slowly make your way to the bus stop that would take you almost directly to you house. Sure enough a message from your best friend waits. As you swipe your finger to reply, another message pops onto the screen, "Jess" glaring at you over the countless messages she has sent.

Jess: Hey, Im going 2 tis bar rlly close to ur place, wanna hang?

Jess: Hey, yo, S'up? Comin?

Jess: Ok srsly, u ignore me nd m tellin every1 about ur lil' misshap 2 weeks ago

Jess : [Name], u've not said nythin 4 2 weeks. U owe me!

You sigh, rolling your eyes, knowing she won't let up until you give in and actually go. You laugh as another message pops onto the screen, this time showing the chubby face of Jess, head pulled back, frowning, middle finger sticking up pulling her "ugly face". She's a bubbly character, that's for sure. Under the picture "Cunt" is written in her scribbly handwriting and you laugh. Even if you're not a fan of curses, those were a given with your friend you've known for the last 7 years of your life.

As you type a quick reply of "Sure, Rosepark right? Be there in an hour or so" the earlier occurrence nearly slips your mind.

Nearly.

As you near the bus stop you can see a few people standing around in the cooling night air. You're not used to so many people hanging around the stop so you near one of the passenger you know usually takes the bus that comes a few minutes after yours.

"Hey, sorry to bother but... what's going on?" you question, looking down the road anticipating the bus.

"Ah, seems there was an accident further down the road due to the ice and a truck spilled water bottles all over the road, so they had to cut off the road because the waters freezing over." she sounds annoyed, so you don't pry further and sigh. Grabbing your phone you think over whom to call, Jess being the first one to cross your mind. Pressing the call function your hear the music blaring as you wait for her to pick up.

"[Name]! Hey what's up my silly little banana! You there yet?" You can hear her father doing something in the background, a loud thud then a squeal. Her sisters are at it again.

"Nah, I don't think I can make it unless you pick me up through the back roads. Bloody roads been cut off, some accident and ice or what not." She groans, then the phone rustles as she goes to do something, you assume ask her dad about the car. The air is getting colder you notice, pulling the scarf one handedly out of your bag and wrapping it around your throat. Your eyes get stuck on the forest behind you, suddenly reminded of the figure that had been standing in the office... what if...

Your train of thought is cut short as her voice comes back on the phone.

"Crap, I'm sorry, my step ma just took the car and won't be back for the next 3 or so hours, Martha apparently twisted her ankle on the way home. So I can't even get to Rosepark either. Shit sorry... what about a taxi?" her voice is very apologetic and you know her well enough to know that at this point she's eating herself alive in guilt for not being able to help.

"Can't, won't get paid till the end of the week and I really can't afford to spend 40 bucks on a ride I can do by foot." you reply, starting your trek down the road. You make sure to stay to the side of the road which isn't alongside the small forest that your company is bordering.

"You sure? I mean, it's a what, hour and a half walk?" her voice is doubtful, but you shrug it off.

"It's ok, seriously, don't worry, I mean, I've walked this a thousand times before." only tonight is a little different because you're starting to get chills, not able to put away nor forget the faceless identity you'd seen in the office earlier.

"Not at night though." Jess replies, and you find yourself slightly annoyed at her before calming down slightly. No reason to be annoyed at someone who obviously was not at fault here, especially if you were just being paranoid anyways.

"Yeah, but, to be honest, I'm a grown ass girl and you know that Jess. And in any case, if anything happens to me, I can always moan at you about it later." you reply, a slight laugh that you can't really feel, accompanying it.

You stop walking as you hear something crack behind you, like someone stepping on twigs. You stare, then sigh as a lone squirrel dashes out of the forest, across the street, then up the oak in front one of the buildings.

Just breathe, [Name], you think, turning back around to keep on the march back home.

Jess is still prattling on and on but you drone her out then sigh, as you feel shivers course though your body again.

Deciding that music would definitely chill you out, you quickly reassure Jess you'll be fine and hang up, almost without giving her time to put in another word, the music starting up almost instantly.

Drowning out the world with the upbeat sound and humming along quietly, you most definitely do not notice the two dark spots surrounded in darkness, observing you, watching you, as you leave the gates of the industrial estate.


	3. Chapter 3

The long trek home isn't usually unpleasant. When the weather dries up and you can walk without getting drenched, you often take this path instead of taking the bus, clearing your head of any thoughts that might plague you, stretching your legs after a long day in front of the computer. You're not exactly a health freak, or you wouldn't call yourself that, with your [body type] stature, but the trek has recently been doing wonders to your head and legs, so you decided to take this path and forego the bus ride if the chance arose.

However, today for once, you didn't feel as confident in your stride as you did usually. While your eyes would roam on a normal day, observing the occasional wild life around you as you stuck to the road, with curiosity and a slight skip in your step, today your steps were rushed. Your eyes kept wandering to the side of the road closer to the forest, the usual path you took discarded in favor of the safety of the short division that the road posed. You diverted your eyes from the thick vegetation, eyes only grazing the surface of the forest, it's innards giving nothing but blackness for your perusal.

The music kept you distracted and a bit more relaxed than if you'd decided not to hear it, however the still imposing presence of the trees, their long branches reaching out as if to grab onto anything, did keep you uncomfortable.

Ah what are you thinking [Name], you chided yourself, shaking your head at your silly thoughts, voice losing its frightened hint as you mouthed along to the song, the voice of that singer, the one you love so much, dang forgot the name, filling your head with lyrics. Your eyes, of course, sneaky little devils, snuck a look at the trees along side you. You stop. You look again. Your mind was playing tricks on you, surely picking up on your paranoia. You could have sworn... for a second... just a second, you thought you had seen something blue flash in the light of the streets, however as your eyes roam over the trees again you shrug. Paranoia sure is a funny thing.

As you start the trek again, you feel uncomfortable. Like ants crawling over your back, a slimy feeling on your skin you do not like at all. It feel like someone's behind you,, watching, but each time you turn, there's nothing there. Your pace picks up speed, but the presence you think is following you does not seem to let up. Your mind races for a short while, before you stop dead in your tracks again. You pull out the earbuds, the silence after the music left your ears engulfing you quite quickly, as you pause the current song. Your ears strain for any sound. You hear a rustling as a soft yet cold breeze makes you pull your coat on tighter, scarf tucked safely into it, but apart from that? Nothing.

You groan inwardly, resuming the walk as well as the music, as you place the buds back into your ears, paying extra attention to the lyrics this time so as to keep your mind occupied. Your eyes stay stubbornly on the ground now, refusing to roam the trees for any sign of movement. The feeling returns almost instantly, but you raise your voice a little bit louder, singing along with the now blaring song as your steps quicken yet again. You know it's paranoia, but to hell with it.

You don't run, you tell yourself as your steps pound against the floor. It's just fast walking, your starving, you want the warmth of your room. You aren't fooled by yourself.

As you get closer and closer to your house, the more of an ominous feeling you get. It's shivers and Goosebumps and you absolutely refuse to turn around.

You throw open the door to your house, step in, know that any glasses at this point would be fogged with the heat regardless, and slam the door shut. You glimpse outside through the windows surrounding the parlor but see nothing but nighttime, cars and lit houses.

Your face red from the not-running you had done, you collapse onto a couch, not noticing one of your roommates giving you an odd look as you remove the buds and turn off the music.

"[Name]?"

You yelp, hand held close to your heart trying to calm it, as you stare at her.

"Sorry, Ange, it's uh... it's been a weird day." you mumble, running a hand through you mildly sweaty [H/C] hair, a feeling of utter exhaustion overcoming you.

"Huh... well, bills are in but, look, we can split them up tomorrow. You look like death dragged you in I swear. Get some rest." you wouldn't call her a friend of yours, per se, but she was a nice girl and she helped when really needed.

"I think I will... night Ange." you mutter, standing up and moving to your room as her "Night [Name]" followed you.

Once in your room you quickly close the curtains, unwilling to have anything to do with the ink-like night outside. For once you dreaded your choice to have put your bed right underneath the main window. Although lovely during summer and spring due to the scents that wafted in when the window was open, during winter and autumn the window became cold... it was also the first time you dreaded it not because of the cold but simply because of how near to the outside world you were, being on the first floor of the house.

You shrugged of the feeling again, unclothing and donning on your favorite yet warmest pajamas you has, a book already waiting invitingly on your bed. You thought you'd read a bit before you fell asleep.

Your head connected with the pillow and you fell asleep instantly.


	4. Chapter 4

You wake up to a screech.

One of your housemates is awake at 7 in the morning, screaming. You groan, hiding your head under the pillows, yesterday completely forgotten for now.

You grudgingly remove your head from under the pillow, sitting up and rubbing your bleary tired eyes. Since you're up already, might as well get up and at em. You grab your shower things, quickly debating on what to wear, before deciding on something more comfortable, the clouds quite dark and heavy. It was sure to rain today.

As you head for the open door of the bathroom you hear your housemate, who you now can identify as Rachel, talking and mumbling to herself about stupid cats and something. The smell of blood instantly assaults your senses, and still having a sensitive morning nose your stomach turnes almost instantly.

"Everything ok Rach?" you ask, trying not to throw up on the spot and congratulating yourself at thefeat of keeping your tone neutral. You're not friends either, none of your housemates are, but you barely see her anyways so you never actually bothered getting to know her too well.

Her head shoots up at you, eyes narrowed in annoyance as she nods.

"Yeah, I think Dusty caught a bird this morning and tore it up to pieces in front of the door step. Almost stepped on it too." she sighed, sniffing then gagging slightly as the scent of blood reached her nose. Dusty, your resident cat, did not usually bring home presents, but you don't put it past him, or Jaques your tabby cat, to bring you a dead rat every once in a while. "Spoiled little brats", you mumble, heading to the bathroom, towel in hand.

It's two hours after, freshly showered and breakfast eaten, that you arrive at work, Cath already waving you over with some papers in hand.

"Morning [Name]." She says, and it's then you notice that the office is very quiet for a Friday. There's a heavy sort of atmosphere lingering, no music blaring, even Rebecca Black stays mysteriously missing from her almost ritualistic fridarian concert over Youtube, courtesy of one of your colleagues. You turn towards Cath, accepting the papers with questioning eyes.

Seemingly understanding the question Cath shakes her head sadly.

"There's... been an accident of some sort. We lost one of our colleagues today." Your eyes widen, yet you manage to inquire about their identity with a hushed voice.

"Roberts, he... we don't really know what happened yet, but it seems he was found this morning, dead so..." she trails of and you nod in understanding, squeezing her shoulder for comfort before taking your seat. Not that you knew Roberts well, since you'd only seen him around the office a couple of times, but still, he was a fellow colleague and any loss, no matter if known or not, was something to be respected and adopt a somber mood (or at least appear as such even if just to not aggravate the friends of the deceased).

The day went past you like a blur, people mourning, some people oblivious, but all you could think about was the mystery from yesterday. You'd woken up this morning feeling tired, but unafraid but now, the previous day rushing back to the forefront of your mind, you wondered what if... what if the figure you'd seen was, indeed, guilty of this murder?

You shake your head, trying to get rid of these thoughts. No, Roberts had had an accident, that was it, Cath had said so, and that figure, you were sure, was nothing to worry about. Least of all, one thing had nothing to do with the other. The figure had given no signs of intent, you knew nothing of it and probably would never see it again. Maybe you'd watched a few too many detective movies at this point and needed to take a break. You eye the book in your bag as if it was to blame before returning to the current document in front of you. Best stop thinking about it before you get paranoid again.

As you finally pack up alongside your peers, Cath having left a bit early today and thus being off duty on time, your eyes drift outside. It's pouring, a welcome change from the ice that had caused so many problems yesterday, and you sigh satisfied. You wouldn't dare walk home in this weather and something in your belly uncoils and relaxes.

You follow the mass outside, sharing "Good weekends" hugs, "Goodbyes" and "See you laters" as you go, bag slung over your shoulder. Someone asks if you'll go to Roseparks tonight, but your eyes droop and your back aches at just the thought. You decline with a smile, informing the guy that you might pop by on Saturday. Your tired muscles almost groan in relief. Finally outside the building you keep up with the mass, not wanting to be left behind or alone. Even the hairs on your neck stand on end, even as you try to engross yourself in a conversation with your desk colleague. You keep getting distracted and she soon gives up, as you shift your eyes nervously along the forest line. You feel like you're being watched, but again, you tell yourself, that can't be right.

As the majority of the people disperse into cars, the opposite way or into their own bus stations you take your usual spot at the bus stop, happy to be early for once, meaning you can retire early and have a head start tomorrow. You sigh in relief as the bus shows and you step in, giving the driver a small wave which he returns with a nod. As you sit, you let your eyes wonder around the forest from behind the relative safety of the glass and surrounded by people. Then you stop and stare. Is that-?

There, standing in between the dark trees as if it belonged is a tall figure you can barely recognize as male, a hoody pulled over his head, a blue, yes, definitely blue, mask or something covering his face. You still can't see his eyes, he's too far away and the street lamp is not bright enough to reach into the pools of ink that the trees cast on the ground, but you can definitely tell that this was the same guy from yesterday, just by his posture and slightly lanky build. You shiver, quickly diverting your eyes to see if anyone else had noticed him and upon finding that no, you were the only one you return your eyes to the same spot only to find that, indeed, he's gone. You rub your eyes, knowing that they're not playing tricks on you, and lean back in the seat, eyes roaming the front of the forest.

You were scared.

Little did you know this was only the beginning.


	5. Chapter 5

It had been four days since the "office incident" as you'd come to think of it. Shaken with the news, which you had finally decided to inform Jess about, as well with the death of Roberts, Jess had invited you to stay the weekend at her place. Not one to say no to a warmer more comfortable bed, along with free food and nice company, you had spent the entire weekend with her, going on walks, going to bars and pubs, enjoying the movies and reading outside in her garden. The occasional feeling of being watched did make itself present, however, as was usual with Jess, the moment your thoughts turned toward the identity with the blue mask or face, Jess would jump in with an idea to keep yourselves busy, often with a joke, or a question that would force you both to rack your brain for a possible explanation.

You did however catch her looking around as well, maybe looking out for you, maybe feeling the non existent eyes on her as well.

As you had stayed at her place so many times, your clothes had a small drawer or their own, clothes you'd forgotten at her place, that she'd borrowed from you (even though that didn't usually tend to happen, her larger fuller frame unable to fit in any of your own [body size]sized clothing.) or stuff you purposefully had dumped at her place. So when she asked if you wanted to extend your stay for the week, and after conferring with her family, you gladly accepted. As her step mother worked close to the business estate your own job was located at you even got a ride in the morning to bring you to work on time.

The week slowly dragged itself along without too much of a hassle. While no concrete information on Roberts had been passed along, more and more rumors spread that he had been murdered instead of had an accident, the police trying to keep the situation under control. However as more and more people spread this rumor, the more ridiculous it becomes. On the first day Roberts had had an accident, the Roberts throat was slashed, someone else claimed his eyes had been pierced, while someone else added that a suicide note had been found. Someone said his organs had been missing, while others said there had been too many organs. While these rumors always tended to happen behind Roberts friends and girlfriend, of course one of them soon caught up.

But your life returned to normal. Not one to listen too carefully to rumors, you kept your head focused on work, side stepping anyone who was found whispering. The dead mans name stubbornly refused to leave your lips and you were fine with that. Your time with Jess also relaxed you, carefully replacing thoughts of paranoia and eyeless men with a new recipe you both were going to try out, or how to get that clay to look exactly the way you both wanted to.

So it is startling, when you do come out of the building at 7:30 that night, to see the man that had almost been wiped from your memories standing, as if he belonged there, at the exit that lead through the forest. You used to take that road often during lunch when it wasn't so cold, quite enjoying the benches facing the forest, lining the little path. He stood there, on that path, looking at you. He was still across the parking lot, however this had been the closest he'd ever been to you, discarding that first fateful meeting.

You could see now that indeed the mask, for it was a mask, was blue, two black circles, or holes?, for eyes with what seemed black tears painted on it. It looked creepy to say the least, like those movies you quite enjoyed watching, a man running after his blonde prey with a knife yearning for blood.

Ah, snap out of it [Name], you chip into your thoughts, this isn't a movie. So gathering the most of the courage you can muster, you take a step towards the figure. You see it tense, only now noticing that whatever he had been playing with, metalic and glinting in the night, was stuck rapidly back into his pocket.

"Hey!" you yell across the park, devoid of cars apart from one who probably belongs to someone working overtime. His head tilts to the right, as if curious. Mind set, you quickly take more steps towards the figure. "Who are you?" your voice resounds in the silence.

You stop, not even 3 parking spots away from his location. You take a gamble and glare "Why are you following me?" you can't tell for sure if he is, if he's not, but you don't necessarily care if you sound like a crazy person. You're not the one with a blue mask on your face. If you were crazy you were sure this guy surely was more so.

"You smell good." is the only thing the guy replies, as he takes a slow step towards you. You take not even a second for your eyes to open comically wide before dashing across the parking lot, headed for the entrance. You can hear something giving chase, which obviously has to be the guy. Mask guy had been holding a knife... or something... maybe a scalpel?, before you had approached him. Who cares, the guy not only was crazy but you now had to be sure he was dangerous. He's gaining on you, your clad feed trying to pick up your pace, your legs burning slightly, and as you near the door to the building you pat rapidly at your pockets, desperately searching for the chip card to let you in, only to see, with growing relief, that the door is flung open as the straggler leaves the building.

"Don't close the door! Get in!" you scream, the guy confused but holding the door open for you. You can't hear mask guy following you anymore but you sure as hell aren't taking any chances. As you push the guy in and close the door, automatic lock falling into place, you stare outside trying to make out anything in the darkness.

"[Name]?!" the guy says and you turn to come face to face with Markus, a tall Spanish guy whom you knew had been friends with Roberts.

"Markus." you sighed in relief, only now noticing the pounding of your heart, the short breath, the cold sweat running down your back. You let your bag fall down on the ground and sit down next to it, trying to regain your breath, your adrenaline rush slowly fading leaving you winded and your muscles burning. After being such a sloth this week your muscles had gotten used to relaxing on a chair.

"What- I don'- what happened?" he questions, eyes quickly analyzing the night outside the tall glass door, but coming up empty handed.

"I... you'll call me crazy." you whisper, rubbing your eyes slightly. You yourself almost called yourself crazy, but knew that you weren't.

"I... no, [Name], I wouldn't. After what happened to Roberts I-" he stops short, eyes locked on yours as if hoping you hadn't heard the last part.

Of course you had heard. And if you had to know, you would know now.


	6. Chapter 6

"What happened to Roberts? What-What do you mean?" you ask as you push yourself up. Your legs are shaking , but you're stable enough to stand.

"Look, it's nothing, ok?" he mumbles, about to press the button next to the door to disengage the lock, but you slam your hand against the door, keeping it firmly shut.

"It's not nothing. I know that look, something's up. " You don't know that look, you don't even know the guy too well. You have only been his housemate for about two months before you have moved out to something more appropriate to your salary.

His sigh breaks the tense silence that has been surrounding you, and then he nods. "Fine. Just - I don't want this to get out, with all the other rumors around." he says, to which you nod. You'd like to grab his shoulder for reassurance, a pat, but you really don't know him well enough for such familiarity.

"It was not an accident." he begins , voice cracking a bit before he coughs. You nod for him to go on, and so he does. "I don't know much, but as R-Robert’s f-friend, the police ... they -- They requested me to identify the body, since his family, as you might know, is still in Spain, and Tessa, his girlfriend, was in hysterics." At this point you do put a hand on his shoulder, but he says nothing about it.

"When they pulled him out, I was shocked. I swear, seeing someone dead is a bit like you see it in the movies. He looked like a doll or something. But then -- His chest, his stomach, seemed so hollowed out. It was him, but ... His organs, well, most of them, were gone. The police asked me if he had anything to do with organ donors, or maybe knew of someone of his bloody type going through a rough patch. I ..." He swallowed, face visibly pale, as you withdraw your hand with a nod and a slight "Keep going, it's ok." slipping past your lips.

"The police -- They , I don't know why, told me his organs had been removed which is why he looked so different. I asked them if he died in pain and they -- I think he suffered ... quite a lot, [Name]." His eyes are shining brightly in the artificial light behind the door, a strong contrast to the darkness that is luring just behind the glass.

"They then asked if he was, uhm -- If he had been ... on some kind of tranquilizer, any pain relief meds, anesthetics, sleep medication. Of course he hadn't, he's the healthiest guy here if you asked me. He was --" His voice comes to a stop, a slight tremble on his lip.  
"So --" You are interrupted by your phone vibrating. Taking a peek on its display, you see it’s Jess calling. You swipe your phone, making sure the message "Call you back!" pops up before returning your full attention to the distressed man in front of you.

"He used to walk home, didn't he?" you ask. You don’t really want to pry, but you are curious enough to not be able to remain silent. His nod is small, but understandable.

"Yeah, he'd always take the path down the forest. He lived not even 30 minutes from here." He stops and stares at you with his eyes holding suspiciousness, before shaking his head as if to shake off an unwanted thought.

"Anyways, what were you running from?" he asks, his hand reaching for the button to open the door again, and once again, you push his hand down, afterwards scanning the grounds with your eyes once more. Mask guy is probably gone at this point, you tell yourself, but your paranoia is back in full.

"I saw this guy next to forest entrance, on the path. He's, uh ... kinda weird, if you ask me, wears a blue mask with black eyesockets and something black dripping from it. He was holding, uhm, something metallic like a knife or so, I couldn't really tell. Freaky as hell. He gave chase and I ran away. I mean, apart from chasing me, he only seemed crazy but, you know, with what has been happening here, I didn't necessarily want to try anything out." You end the sentence with a shrug, trying to make it as nonthreatening as possible, knowing it is impossible.

"Something black, you say?" His question is a bit weird but you nod nonetheless, and as soon as you are reassured that there's no one outside, you give up the inspection of the ground, turning to face Markus again.

"Yeah, like tears or something. I think it was painted on, but I didn't really pay attention, you know, running for my life and all." Your attempt at sarcasm goes right over his head. You think he may have withheld information but you're not sure and you don’t want to pry. Your phone vibrates again and you look at Markus apologetically as you finally pick up.

"Where the hell are you, [Name]?! It's way past 8 already!" Jess's voice is worried and you stop to think about how much this girl tries to take care of you.

"I, uh -- I got stuck at work?" you cautiously answer . Gosh, you really suck at lying to her.  
"Yeah, right. Seriously though, where are you? We're worried sick. My step mother just told me that someone at her company died last night, you know, someone from the same business park you're in, and we're coming to pick you up --" Some static seems to break off her next words, but you shake your head.

"No, no, Jess, it's fine. I can go with the bus back to your place. It’s not that far."  
You both get into a little fight, however you soon cave in to her . Markus is staring at you the whole time, and you shrug again.

As you hang up, he nods.

"Your friend is coming to pick you up, right ?" he asks, and you nod. "Good. I don't think we should be walking outside alone at night anymore. Goodnight, [Name]." he says gravely. You reply with a simple 'Goodnight' of your own and watch him enter his car, then pull away.

And as your eyes roam over the parking lot and the forest once more, you wonder how exactly you have got yourself into a scary movie.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7.

Of course you didn’t fail to tell Jess about the incident. As a result, your unofficial stay at her house has prolonged itself to two weeks now, and on every single day of these two weeks, she picks you up personally, with her stepmother always sitting in the car with a gentle smile on her lips.  
Her protective side has turned into a full-blown hyperactive status, and you let her, knowing that when she gets into one of these moods, she won’t easily snap out of it. In any case, it is rather comforting, and you barely have a boring day in those two weeks.

This doesn’t mean that you don’t pay attention to your surroundings anymore , you still try to see if the guy is still around, but so far you have seen nothing. You, as well as Jess since she wants to help you , carefully examine the newspapers for any reports about someone being murdered. Sure enough, it seems that the death count has risen in the last three weeks, but you don’t want to think about what exactly that means . After the incident near the forest, you have called the police, of course on Jess's insistence, who has promptly told you that you have nothing to worry about. However, security has been doubled at the business park, and thus you certainly are feeling a bit safer.

It is Friday when Jess knocks on the door to the guest room you have been staying at, her eyes downcast and her expression a little bit worried. You had already forgiven her for having gotten you silver earings, gently having reminded her that you were allergic to the material.

"Is... is everything OK Jess? I'm not angry about the gift, and see, it's all better" you show her your ear lobes but she shakes her head.

"I-it's not that [Name]. Just... my uncle is in the hospital and they need us to take care of the house and stuff, so... you know... I can't really be here." she looked more worried now, with a shake of her head. "And I really don't want to leave you here with that, creep, and the murders." 

"Is he ok at least, is it anything serious?" you ask, trying to discern the situation at hand.

"Oh yeah. It’s just an appendectomy I think, but he'll be fine, but has to stay at the hospital for a few days."

You smile comfortingly at her, jokingly poking her shoulder once. Your smile seems to calm her down slightly, and you shake your head in amusement.

"Look, Jess, don't worry. I haven't seen that guy in ages, I'm sure it was nothing. And there's heightened security anyways. And I promise ... I promise, ok, Jess? I promise to stay away from the path that leads close to the woods. So you really have nothing to worry about."

She sighs , and you know you have already convinced her . With a rather reluctant nod, she grabs your hand and pulls you to her room where her bag is waiting to be packed, so you spend the next hour helping her pick out what is necessary for her short trip.

\-----------

As soon as you set foot back in the house you are sharing with Ange and Rachel and a few other girls, you notice something odd. The window in your room which is normally closed and locked is now opened, and the curtains are pulled back to let the sunlight fall into the room. You guess that Ange has probably opened it, considering that your room tends to fog up at night because of the humidity, however she usually asks you if she can go into your room and open the window. Putting it down to her being in a rush -- you have been gone for two weeks after all -- you proceed into your room.

You gag. Something in the room smells putrid, like blood, or rot, or rust. Almost instantly, you rush to the window and open it fully, trying to get the smell to go. Looking around, you can't tell why the room smells as it does, so you decide to investigate. Your eyes automatically come to rest upon your bed, and you gag again. Near the bed, the smell is quite strong and you quickly understand why. A small pool of blood is on your pillow, and something black is smeared alongside it, and next to it , as if carefully places, is lying some kind of ... organ, soaking the fabric.   
It doesn't seem old, though you can't even tell what kind of organ it is, apart from the fact that it’s small and has obviously been gnawed on and bitten at.

"Fucking cats." you mumble, your stomach turning at the sight of the organ. You wonder where your cats have gotten the organ from, but you think that maybe one of your neighbors has discarded it in the trash from a pig roast or something. You don’t want to think about it too much, so you just go with your own explanation.

Grabbing some paper towels from the kitchen, you quickly dispose of the organ and then throw the pillows and the rest of the bedclothes into the washing machine . You have no idea if this will come off, but you can’t afford to buy new bed linens , so for now you have to try your best. Snatching a pillow form the couch in the living room and remaking your bed with new sheets, you fall on top of the now clean bed. A scented candle is burning on your desk , and the window is wide open to try and dispel the nauseating scent.

You relax. The curtains in front of the window are half closed, still allowing light from the street lamp to lighten the room , and to throw shadows across the bed and the floor. You close your eyes for a few seconds, enjoying the calmness of the night, but then you see behind closed eyelids something blocking out the light that has been falling over your face. You shrug and , thinking it’s Jacques, open your eyes to shoo him away, before you realize that the silhouette standing out against the curtains isn't a cat but indeed very human. Very lanky and very tall. With a gasp, you hastily reach towards the window to shut it but you are too late, as the figure quickly yanks it back open.

You scramble backwards and fall off the bed, but you jump to your feet again and sprint towards the side of your closet which has already had a broken shelf when you have moved in. You have never decided to throw away the loose plank that has fallen off one of the drawers, and now you are glad you didn’t , as you pick it up. Your phone is lying on the bedside table, right next to the the guy who is staring at you from behind the mask.

"W-who a-are you?" Your voice is trembling with fear, but you are inwardly happy to at least see that the knife - or scalpel? - is nowhere in sight. Your housemates seem to be gone, probably at Rachel’s party to which you haven’t been invited, not that you actually care .

But fact is, you are alone with this guy.


	8. Chapter 8

"Jack." His voice, you notice now since you aren’t outside and the wind is still, is low and raspy, as if he has rarely used it. It irritates your ears a bit, but , to be very honest, you don’t care for it that much.

"I'd like to say 'nice to meet you', but, you know, you just broke into my house and I'd appreciate it if you left." You definitely sound braver than you are feeling . You take a step back as the guy takes a step closer, his head tilted to the right in curiosity.

"You didn't like my gift?" The question catches you off guard. You are not sure which gift he is referring to.

As if he knows what you are thinking, he nods his head in the direction of the bed, to the pillow, to be more precise. Your stomach does a flip as soon as you remember the organ ... The organ ...  
Your breath catches in your throat. "That was you?" you ask. You want to back off him, but it’s as if you are rooted to the spot. You simply can’t move.

His nod confirms your suspicions. "She used to like them, did you know? The spleens?"

Your brow furrows in confusion, and you narrow your eyes at the guys. What does he mean? She used to like them? Spleens? If you didn't already know that this guy is absolutely bonkers, you definitely are sure now. However, something -- maybe the fact that he probably has a scalpel or something else with a blade hidden in his pocket and that he has given you an organ as a gift -- tells you that telling this guy that you are sure he belongs in a mental hospital of some kind isn’t the best idea.

"Oh, uh, t-thanks for that but ... you didn't have to, you know." You try to keep your voice steady, but you are wondering if he has noticed the crack in your voice at the beginning of your sentence. Your hands are still tightly holding onto the plank. Hopefully, you don’t have to use it.  
"I wanted to, Felic-- Oh , I'm sorry, I mean, [Name]. Your voices are so alike -- were so alike -- are so alike."

Yup, he is completely and utterly bonkers.

"H-how do you know my name?" you ask, your voice barely a whisper, even though you kind of know the answer already anyways. He doesn't even deign to answer your question, instead tilting his head to the other side slowly .

You cautiously inch towards the door, hoping that he doesn't realize your intentions until you are at said door, however -- of course -- his eyes seem to be trained on you the whole time and you have barely moved an inch before he cocks his head to the right once again.

"Do I scare you, [Name]?"

How the hell do you answer that? 'Why yes, Jack, you scare the bejeesus out of me.' You almost snort at your own thoughts, but then think twice about your situation. So far he hasn't attacked you, hasn't been aggressive, well, at least as long as you pretend that day near the woods was an odd encounter. He is just standing there after all, seemingly staring at you.  
"N-no, you don't." Your own answer surprises even you, but his face, hidden behind the mask, tilts down slightly, as if in a pleased nod.

"Good. Only prey should be afraid."

You gulp at his words. You are slightly confused, to say the least, and your hands are shaking, but you will yourself to lower the plank, at least low enough not to pose an open threat but at the same time high enough to strike if he should attack you.

"And I'm not prey?" Again your voice trembles, but this time you're proud to say it doesn't tremble enough to be noticed by him.

"Of course not. Your voice is ... entrancing. You remind me of someone I ... lost." he speaks, and you can see from the way his mask is tilted towards you that he's staring at you quite intensely.  
The mask’s inky holes where his eyes should be scare you a bit, since he appears to not have any eyes at all this way.

Throwing caution to the wind, you drop the plank to the ground and clear your throat awkwardly .  
"Look, Jack, I'm sorry you lost her, I'm truly am, but ... I'm not her." You almost kick yourself for most likely getting your own butt into trouble, and expecting the worst, you flinch as he takes the few steps separating the both of you. You don't even think of lifting the plank, but at this point you really don't want to make yourself seem like a threat. You ... look like a threat? You would laugh at yourself if the situation weren't this weird.

His gloved fingers grabs your chin, pulling it so that you are looking at him, your [E/C] eyes widened at his proximity. A strange metallic scent is clinging to his clothes and makes you feel uncomfortable. You can look closer at his mask now, and so you notice that the holes he has for his eyes are indeed made to look like dark pits of despair. Some tar-like substance is dripping from the sockets, a lone drop of it falling on your floor, and for once, you thank the heavens that you don't have a carpet in your room. This substance looks like something that would be very difficult to come out.

He seems to inspect you, head tilting left then right before finally leaning in. He pulls his mask up, of course making sure you can't see underneath, before pressing his nose to your neck. He's cold, frigid, an icicle.

Yelping, you jump and try to get away from him, but his grip is tight, and now he is , pressing his nose closer to the part of your neck where you know that one artery runs right beneath your skin ... or something like that, you're not too familiar with human anatomy. He breathes in hard, then runs his tongue over your neck once before finally letting you go, pulling his mask back down swiftly.

You stumble backwards and hit the door, the knob digging into your lower back.

"Yes, of course you aren't, [Name], you don't look much like her at all. You don't look like me at all ... But you smell so much sweeter ..." The way his face travels down your body holds nothing of the sensuality you have read about so often in books. If anything, he looks like you are a meal, and you definitely prefer to not be looked at, like you are a steak when the person looking at you is obviously starving.

Just as you open your mouth to tell the guy to either not eat you or to get the hell out -- preferably both --, you hear a car pull up outside. You quickly turn around, facing the entrance of the house, and throw the door of your room open. But when you turn back, he's gone.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9.

Once again , you decide not to call the cops. You are unsure of what to say anyways, thinking that 'Well, yeah, this masked guy came in, gave me a spleen as a gift apparently, and then left.' isn’t a proper thing to say for a police report . However, you simply are not able to relax in the following week. You don’t encounter Jack again during this time, which only fuels your paranoia to the point it is showing itself in your behavior , even at work. While Cath is constantly trying to get you to take a few days off , the thought of being alone at home with a strange and most likely crazy guy being after you doesn’t appeal to you in the slightest.

To your surprise, however, the murders have also stopped. While before there have been 3 murders in only 7 days, it now has been over a week and nothing has happened so far. No murders, no organs, no masks, no Jack. You tell yourself that the incidents are unrelated , that Jack isn’t a murderer, that there hasn't been a murderer standing in your room a couple of days ago. You can almost convince yourself that it has been nothing but a dream , if it weren’t for the now burned pillows and bed covers, and their ashes are still waiting for you in the black trash bin outside your home.

But your paranoia doesn't wear off anymore . Since the incident with Jack standing in your room, you haven’t entered your home on your own , waiting at work and pulling overtime until you are sure either Ange or Rachel (or any of the other girls) are already home. And the cash on your bank account is dwindling as you take the safer route, taking either a taxi or the bus back home more often than before.

Markus, just like Cath, is quick to catch onto your growing paranoia as well, approaching you one late night and asking you about what is making you so jumpy. Happy to have someone else to confide in, apart from Jess who doesn’t really work at the estate and isn’t there 24/7, you tell him about having seen Jack around your place and knowing he is following you. You don’t tell him about Jack having been in your room though, or even having contacted you directly, because that, for some reason, sounds like you'd be crazy, and to be honest , you don’t want to be pulled further into this crazy situation anyways. Markus, ever the sweet guy, listens to you and nods as you are explaining your fear. Eventually, he gives you a hug.

"You know, maybe at this point you're just being paranoid. You should relax, I'm sure nothing will go wrong. Even the streets are safe to walk again. And the forests? I've been going home by foot myself the last few days, it's as safe as can be now."

His words strike you as odd, since you have definitely seen him get in his car often the last few days, but you shrug it off. Considering his friend has died and he is in direct contact with the police, he is sure to know more about the situation at hand than you being the paranoid person you are.

When Jess returns a week and a half later, since the appendectomy of her uncle has infected and he has to stay a bit longer at the hospital than initially expected, she asks you if you want to stay at her place, but you refuse . This is becoming ridiculous, you tell yourself. Now that Jack knows that you aren’t the girl he apparently has thought you would be, he surely will stay away from you.

As if to prove your point, as well as to prove Markus's words true, you walk home that night by foot, even going so far as to look the devil in the eye and sticking exceptionally close to the forest, and you congratulate yourself when you get home and not a single thing has happened. Not a rustle, not a squirrel, not a whisper. See, [Name]? You just have been over-reacting. Markus was right.

Of course, Jess knows something had happened anyway, as you are still shooting quick looks over your shoulder every once in a while, not yet able to overcome your paranoia fully. Being her best friend, you recount the entire story and stay at her house for four more days after that, just to convince her you are indeed OK and that nothing and no one is chasing you.

Jack, you are telling yourself, is gone. Jack, you are telling yourself, also isn’t a murderer and probably is a delusional kid who has some problems in life. You definitely refuse to connect the dots, you refuse to acknowledge that his appearance has been at the same time as the murders , you refuse to notice the increase of murders when you have seen him in the woods and the dwindling of these now that he has gone missing. Even though you know this, you still refuse to admit you have gotten yourself into some kind of clichéd movie or story of a sort. With this in mind, with Markus's words and knowing that only in movies and stories the guy would show up again, you decide to start walking back home instead of taking the bus or a taxi. Your legs definitely appreciate the effort, your mind can relax and you feel yourself return to normality almost immediately .

Of course, as all stories go, this doesn’t last for too long.

You see, one day, you open the door to your room, throw your jacket and your bag onto the couch and, without even turning on the light because you are completely exhausted from an extremely long day at work and just want to sleep, let yourself fall backwards on the bed.

The warm bed.

The warm bed that spoke.

"What? No hello? No greeting?"

Before you can scream, or in fact even react, his gloved hand covers your mouth, successfully muffling the scream that does , eventually, rip itself from your throat.

"Shh, it's just me, [Name]. Relax."

With a slight squeeze of his hand, he withdraws , letting you sit up and quickly turn on the light.

"J-Jack?" you whisper as the light almost blinds you. You are met with the deep blue mask -- as always -- his hoodie throwing a dark shadow over it, but his brown hair, you notice , is poking here and there from around the opening. Whilst your heart is finally slowing down from the shock, you take your time thoroughly taking his looks in.

He stands tall, quite tall in comparison, and very scrawny. Lanky? Skinny? You can’t really make out his height and physique , not with the hoodie as well as the mask. However, his whole posture, his build and his hair don’t let him look like he is any older than 19. You can’t tell for sure, of course, not only are you bad with ages but his mask covering his face doesn’t help at all.

"[Name]." His voice kicks you out of your stupor and you jump to your feet , moving so that you are as far away as possible from him.

He stares , you stare back .

"I'm not gonna hurt you." His voice sounds impatient, with a touch of hurt. Your eyes narrow to slits as you keep analyzing him.

"What are you doing here? I thought you had left?" you ask, examining his hoodie which seems to be wet in some patches, slimy almost. His pockets squelch when he is moving, a sound you don’t really care for.

"I had ... business to attend to. Why? Did you miss me, [Name]?" He sounds amused, which in turn kind of annoys you.

"Oh, so much. I could barely breathe without your presence." His chuckle does catch you off guard. It sounds uncoordinated, raspy as if he hasn’t laughed at all in a long time , but at the same time, it sounds warm and gentle . You also notice that his voice has smoothed a little ever since you two have last spoken to each other, as if he hasn’t stopped talking since then. You feel a blush creep up your neck as the laugh almost smothers you in its softness before you shake your head. But then, a drop falls from his hoodie and onto your clean wooden floor. A red drop. A red slimy disgusting drop. With all the panic due to his sudden appearance in your room, you haven’t even noticed the smell that accompanied him.

Blood.

"I-is t-that b-blood?" Your stutter makes him tilt his head again, before he looks at the drop on the floor your eyes are stuck on. 

"Yes. And?"

"A-are you hurt?"

"No."

You gulp.

"Whose blood is that when it’s not yours?"

His annoyed sigh cuts through the silence like a razor, and you flinch.

"You're not that stupid and you must have connected the dots at this point, right, [Name]?"

And finally, finally, you allow your brain to comprehend that, yes, indeed, there is a murderer standing in your room, and yes, he has killed people, and yes, he is highly dangerous. Before you can think twice about it, you bolt for your phone in your bag.

Jack, even though quick in reflexes, understands your motives a single second too late, and as soon as your fingers wrap around the little machine, you rush out the door. Your fingers are pressing the keys quickly, however too quickly as you repeatedly press the wrong ones, and when you finally manage to input the correct number for the emergency hotline, a hand darts out from behind you, removing the phone deftly from your grasp and smashing it on the floor. A prick on your neck is the last thing you take notice of before your vision is surrounded by black, a single phrase caught by your ears.

"It's alright now, I've got you. And I won't let you go again."

A small, gentle chuckle followed.

"Felicity."


	10. Chapter 10

When you regain consciousness, there's a bird chirping merrily somewhere above you. You can't tell what kind of bird, since you are no expert in bird species, but you do know and notice that a bird chirping above you is strange for your bedroom. Which is easy to explain, since you notice with a start that you aren't in your bedroom to begin with.

As your eyes adjust to the blinding sunlight, the first thing you notice is that your head, which is lying on something dampish but soft, mixed with the earthy and musty smell of mold, feels like someone stuffed cotton into it. Though your eyesight is slightly blinded by sun, you can see just fine. The sun isn't yet at the highest point in the sky, so you guess it's late in the morning.

Despite the cotton in your head which makes you feel like you have slept for years on end, you manage to lift your head ever so slightly, although the stiff muscles in your neck are protesting.   
As you take in your surroundings -- definitely not your bedroom, that is for sure --, you see a blanket covering your form and a note that has been placed on a garden table nearby, the white paint of the table flaking off and taken over by moss and rust.

You take a few more minutes to inspect where exactly you are. Craning your neck this way and that, you can tell that you are in the middle of some kind of woods. Behind you is a small cabin-like structure, the wooden walls are green with moss and decay, but astoundingly standing upright and sturdy. In front of you is a small garden, complete with a set of garden furniture, a small swing is hanging from one of the taller and more robust trees, and there also is a flower bed to the right.

You slowly push your body upright and swing your legs to the side, the blanket wrapped around your ankles. After you have disentangled your feet you once again look at the note and then pick it up to read it.

"I'll be back soon.

Jack"

You scrunch up the paper in your fist and groan in pain as the joints in your back pop.

So, you have been taken by a crazy guy, who most likely kills people, to god knows where. How long have I been here ?, you ask yourself, shielding your eyes from the sun with your right hand. To recollect the things that have happened: You have returned home at around 8 pm last night -- you at least guess that it had been last night that Jack had kidnapped you --, and if you have to guess, you'd say it is around 10 or 11 am right now, which means that you have been asleep for over 10 hours. You panic a little, quickly checking if you have any injuries you might have received. Apart from the soreness in your body, which obviously comes from lying in the cold air and on a uncomfortable, metal garden set lounge, you notice nothing out of the ordinary on yourself. No case to panic, just yet, you seem to be fine.

As you stand up, your eyes are automatically drawn to a bright patch of flowers towards the back of the garden, almost straight in the center of the little area. You get closer and examine it, then sigh at the cute sight. White and pink carnations make a lovely tile on the floor, surrounded by the blue delicate flowers of forget-me-nots. Ivy clings to something at the head of the flower bed but you regard it as unimportant.

You need to find a way out of here. The roaring in the background, that you now take notice of with your surroundings deemed as safe, is loud and persistent. It's a strange rushing sound, humming and gushing, but maybe you're close to a highway. If that really is the case, then this will be your way out of here.

Turning to face the cabin fully, you intend to look for your cell phone or a phone altogether. Not that you think you'll find it, but it's still worth a shot. The cabin looks like it hasn't been used in years, however the structure is sound and robust. You take the few steps quickly and pull at the door, which, to your surprise, gives in quite easily. You open the wooden door and almost gag at the heavy smell of mold, rot and rust. It leaves a metallic yet fungoid taste in the back of your mouth.

You flick on the switch of one of the lamps that you can see on the wall, however the click of the switch isn't accompanied by light. Well, of course not, since it seems that no one has been in this cabin in years. It didn’t hurt to try. More to dispel the nasty scent lingering in the air, but also to bring light into the closed off space, you fling the windows open, letting the air from the oncoming spring outside stream in. You take a deep breath of the almost sweet air and proceed to open all of the windows in the cabin you can find.

As you scrutinize the layout of the house, you also notice another thing: There is no water and no electricity available in the cabin, and definitely no food in any of the cupboards or the empty and turned off fridges. You frown and sigh deeply, your stomach rumbling slightly.

The cabin itself consists of three stories, a main floor, the upper floor and a small basement, which seems more damp than the rest of the house and where you really don’t spend too much time looking around. The door you have initially opened leads to a small living room and an open kitchen. The kitchen, to the right, although old, doesn’t seem like it is broken or unusable, and if you are able to restore the electricity or find gas, you can maybe use it to cook something -- however, you aren’t sure how the stove works and you clearly don’t plan on staying here long enough to find out. The living room, on the left from the door, seems to be the only part of the house which has been used mostly , however even this seems to be at least a year ago. The chimney has ashes and a stack of wood next to it which doesn’t look that dry, to be honest. Old plates are lying on the coffee table, caked with moss and fungi and there are also a few candles halfway melted and some matches near them. An old style TV is standing underneath one of the windows, a few gaming consoles surrounding it. They seem to be surprisingly new, oddly looking clean in the midst of the decaying place. Leading away from the living room, at the back wall, are some old stairs that lead upstairs, where, after some searching around, you find two bedrooms, a library/study of some sort and a bathroom. The two bathrooms, both on the upper floor and the downstairs floor, were green with mold and moss and you escape the scent encased inside the room after you have opened the window.

You, of course, come back downstairs empty-handed.

What strikes you as odd though, is the numerous books spread around the house. There are shelves filled with books, books strewn around the house, and notebooks filled with doodles and drawings and diary entries. Some of these books and papers, the ones which haven’t begun to rot and are still readable despite the humidity, often have "F.N" inscribed at the bottom. When you stumble upon some old school books, you stop . The name "Nadia" is written clearly on a sticker, for naming purposes most likely, on the front of the math book you are holding in your hand. You don’t like this a single bit.

Shaking off the weird, creepy feeling of being in an unknown, abandoned place, you quickly leave the cabin to inspect the outdoors.

Ok, [Name], it's time to be brave, I need to get out of here and if I’ll follow that strange roaring sound, maybe, just maybe, we can find a highway.

As you walk, your ears on alert trying to find the source of the roaring, you notice that the woods you are in seem to not be as dense as the ones around the area of your house. This only reinforces your decision to go and somehow find a way home. You have no idea why Jack has taken you here of all places, why he hasn’t simply killed you, but you really aren’t too keen on finding out. The moment you have made it back home, you are going to call the cops. No chickening out this time.

However, as you get closer and closer to the roaring sound, not even ten minutes after you have begun walking you feel your stomach drop. The trees get more dispersed, the humidity rises and when the wall of trees finally opens up, you gasp.

A river.

A large, roaring river.

A goddamned river.

Fuck.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11.  
Your knees are shaking, your chest is filled with panic. How are you going to get out of here? No, no time to panic!, you scold yourself and pick up your pace, walking around the shoreline. If you follow the river downstream, you have to find either someone or at least a beach or a lake. It is definitely better than waiting for Jack to return. The river however doesn't seem to end. You don't give up though, following the shoreline for what seems like hours.

When you eventually stop to rest, legs burning with the exertion, and the sun shining in your face, you groan. There seems to be a dock of some kind, the water here is less aggressive and calmer, apparently a kind of bay on this place. It has to be late afternoon now, judging by how high the sun is in the sky. How long have you been walking? You groan again, sitting down at the edge of the water, and let your now bare feet dip into the cool liquid. Your legs twitch as you have a rest. You must have been up for maybe 5 or 6 hours now, it can't have been any less than that.

You sigh, then take in your surroundings more carefully. Here, the river isn't roaring as loudly as it has been near the cabin, you notice due to the calmer, secluded water. This place ... could it be? Could you be on an island in the middle of a river? It would make sense and explain why the water here is calm, considering it seems to flow in a specific direction and if this is one of the ends of the island, then the water here would, theoretically, be calmer.

You drop your head onto your knees, resting for a little while, just enjoying the breeze on your back and the water on your toes. How ... how were you going to get out of here, out of this, from this island?

If this is, indeed, an island, which you can almost vouch for, then Jack has to come here with a boat. Jack is gone, however, which means the boat is definitely gone too. But you are sure that if there is really a boat, when Jack returns, this place is where he will dock it. Anywhere else doesn’t make sense, since, as you have noticed on your expedition, the water at the other areas is not only quite far down because of a sort of cliff, but also seems to be quite wild and strong. It would definitely damage any boats docked there. But here the water is a lot calmer. You lift your head.

You don’t want to wait for Jack, you want to go home. You want to eat some Ramen noodles, grab a Jacket and read fanfiction on the internet. You want to call Jess and tell her she is an idiot. You want to hear your fathers voice. Work with Cath. You want to go back to your normal life.

You frown, scrutinizing the river in front of you. If you see correctly, the water seems calm not only on the bay but further out as well. If anywhere to cross, this is the place.

You nod, your mind made up. You're not going to wait for a psychopath to return and murder you. You want to live or die trying. You fold your clothes as you take them off, one by one. Your skin shivers in Goosebumps as you stand in front of the roaring water, worry filling you, but your will to escape grows stronger and you take your first steps into the cool water. It's freezing, but you don't care. Taking a bit to get used to the coldness, you finally jump in and start swimming.

The first few minutes are ok, the water is cold and you are shivering, but you keep moving, the current not too strong, and you almost weep in joy as you see the other side come closer.

That is, until a strong current pulls your left leg down and you go down beneath the water, a quick, sharp breath the only warning.

And under you go.

It's a sudden whirlwind, it pulls on your arms, on your legs, your torso spasming as you are pulled down by another current. You feel rocks under your hands, you're upside down, then you protect your head as the water slams you down onto a rock. You grab onto it, lungs burning with the need for air. You kick out, hitting something hard and slimy, your toes push against it. You break through the surface, take a deep breath. You barely get a second to feel relief, then you're down again. You don't know which way is up, which way is down. You don't want to drown, you don't want to die. You fling your arms again, out, looking for anything to hold onto. You almost scream as your hand grabs something long and sturdy, but your grip is gone. Just as you think you'll die, your hand comes into contact with the thing again and you pull yourself out of the current, your head breaks the water and your lungs inflate with much needed air.

You quickly pull yourself on shore, running on nothing but adrenaline, not caring where you are, when you are, simply knowing that you still are... alive.

You lay there for what seems like an eternity. Your lungs ache, your body hurts, there are scratches and bruises all over your body, and your ankle is hurting but you don't think it is too serious. You don't care. You breathe, and you breathe again. And as the adrenaline, making you shake and breathe deeply, slowly dissipates, you cry. You cry because this is all fucked up. You cry because you want your life back. You cry because you're panicking. You cry because you're in shock.

When you finally sit up, the sun has started to cast a golden glow, going further down in the sky. You finally take in where exactly you are and groan. You're not too far from the freaking dock. You must have pushed yourself right back into the water around it, your savior having been a lone root of one of the trees surrounding the area. You are lucky, you know this, you know that your chances of survival had been too low to rely upon. You almost died. You should have died. This realization quickly makes you stand. Your ankle throbs but you disregard the pain, grabbing a fallen branch to help you walk. It's starting to get colder, and although spring is close, winter still bites at your feet. Your clothes, strewn around the bay by the wind, wait for you patiently. It doesn’t take more than 5 minutes to get to them.

Your trek back to the cabin, which has to be in the middle of the island , you tell yourself, takes you longer than you thought. You're freezing,wet and in pain, making progress slowly, holding onto the branch for support. When you finally get there, about 20 minutes later, the sun is very low. You congratulate yourself on arriving at the cabin before sunset, and remember the matchbox on the table inside. You're glad that you have taken the time to examine the house before, quickly grabbing the blanket off the garden lounger, throwing some unreadable, decayed books and wood into the chimney and lighting it. It takes some tries though, since the cold wet wood does not want to catch fire.

Insistence, for once, helps you out. You stare at the small fire that slowly grows in size and warmth. You sneeze, before wrapping the blanket around you and snuggling in front of the warmth of the fire, your wet clothing hanging on the wall to dry.

\-----

You didn’t even notice when you fell asleep. Your body lulled by the flames and the heat, tired and exhausted from the day. You also don't really know what has woken you up. You're comfortable, something heavy and warm on your body making the heat intensify and coil around you like a lover. You take a bit to return to the living world. You hear breathing, slow and steady.

As you lift your head, your muscles hurting and protesting at the movement, you come face to face with a blue mask ... and black ooze dripping to the floor. You almost scream, but Jack’s hand over your lips muffle the sound. You shiver, almost in panic again, as Jack pulls the blanket you have over yourself off. You lie there, trying to covers yourself, in nothing but your underwear, trembling in the cold. Jack moves his other hand to keep you steady, apparently inspecting your injuries. Bruises and cuts litter your body, you ankle forming a blue, greenish hue. You try to move it and sigh in relief that it's fine, just bruised and sore.

Jack doesn't say a single word for several minutes, having noticed you moving your ankle and obviously deciding that everything is indeed fine and that you'll survive, and then he tilts his head to the right.

"I didn't think you'd be so stupid." His voice cuts the awkward silence and you huff, annoyed. You choose not to answer. You're angry.

Taking your silence as an answer though, he quickly moves the blankets back onto you, causing you to sigh in relief, the heat enveloping you again in its embrace. You hear the front door open and give the idea of running for it a couple minutes of thought, but disregard it. Though your ankle is neither sprained nor broken, it still hurts and seems to be tender to any movement. You would not be able to outrun anyone in the state you're in and you don’t want to make Jack angry.

Jack doesn't take long to return anyways. Not even 10 minutes later, he is back. You don't care for what he's doing though, as you finally let your eyes fall shut again, the soft sounds of clinking and rustling, Jack moving around quietly, drifting you back to a deep, deep, sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12.

You wake up to the feeling of something slipping around your ankles and locking into place. You're not sure of what's going on, since your head is again filled with that muffled cotton-like feeling. You quickly fall back asleep.

When you wake up the next time, you try to stretch ... and stop. Your ankles feel heavy, so heavy. You try to lift your leg, finding it to be possible but quite a lot heavier than normal. You lift the blanket and observe the anklets you are now wearing, made of some sturdy heavy material. They're thick and silver, little bells on both of the them. At least they are not made of silver, or else your leg would be red and itchy at this point.

Crap. You sure as hell won’t try and swim like this, not that you had any intention of trying anytime soon in the first place. You pull at the anklets, trying to check them for any weaknesses. Nothing. Running, with these anklets being as heavy as they are, sure would also be quite a challenge. At least they aren’t attached to anything, making walking around possible but still encouraging you to not move too much.

You stand up and grab your clothes from the wall. They're now dry and warm and you slip them on, wishing you could take a shower to get the filthy feeling of sweat off of your body. You could, of course, make your way down to the river, but you dismiss that idea. Your ankle throbs, your body protests and you really don't want to return there.

Your eyes move around the room. The house is quiet, the fire having died out during the night, but the sun shining in through the window is enough to keep you warm. A note from Jack is sitting on the mantle piece:

"Food’s in the fridge. Water and electricity is on.

Don't run.

I'll be back later.

\- Jack"

You frown, confused by how electricity is here, in the middle of nowhere. A pump for water would make sense ... maybe solar-cell powered?

Not wasting another thought on this subject, you go into the kitchen, happy to find bread amongst tons of other food in the fridge and in the cupboards. Seems like Jack had gone shopping yesterday. Hastily preparing a few sandwiches, you literally inhale the first one, satisfying your appetite and then taking some time to eat the second sandwich. You test the water, which comes out brown and stinky first but quickly turns into clear and fresh. You don't think there's warm water.

Sandwiches devoured, you head to the bathroom. The disgusting scent is gone the moment you flush the toilet, the window still cranked open. Not wanting to shower in a dirty bathroom, you find some cleaning utensils, mainly bleach, at least a year old, underneath the sink in the kitchen and make quick work of cleaning the bathroom, at least the more urgent areas you might need. The sink, toilet, shower and the floor almost sparkle, clean, in contrast to the nearly green walls of the room. You give it little thought as you wash away the grime of the previous day with the quite cold water. Your underwear, washed with only water, is drying in the sun during this.

Now showered and dressed, you examine the house again. With electricity restored you can tell the TV is now working. You turn it on, if only to hear the sound of normal human beings, and are astonished at the fact that not only does it work, but that it even has channels. That explains the satellite dish you had seen yesterday on the balcony, but which you had ignored in your search for a phone. With renewed hope, you search the whole house for a phone again, but come up empty-handed again. The gaming consoles and other electric appliances however all seem to work. This makes life here definitely less boring.

When you stumble upon the computer again, you think about what to do. Maybe, since you have a TV, maybe you have internet as well? You turn on the quite new device. It seems odd to have a (laptop / computer) sitting at a desk, clean and tidy, and it isn't until you have turned it on that you notice, in fact, this is your own (laptop / computer). Your background glares at you after your input of the password. Jack must have taken it with him, god knows why.

Your attempts to connect to any internet are, however, futile. No connection is found, the multiple searches always returning negative answers. You sigh, laying your head down, scared that you will die here and no one will hear of your story.

You spend the next three hours writing down everything that has happened so far. You're not really sure why you do it, but just feel that, if someone should ever find this place and find you dead, you want someone to know what has happened to you.

You don’t notice that you are starving once again until your stomach gurgles. If your laptop is correct, it is way past lunch time, so you decide to cook some pasta, which you have noticed earlier in one of the cupboards.

You make quick work of cleaning the kitchen to a point where cooking in it would not get your food infected with disgusting residues. You again see the difference between the dirty grimy rest of the house and the areas you use for your necessities. Placing the pasta in a pot of water and cooking some broccoli you found in the big fridge, on the stove, you notice another smaller fridge under the row of countertops separating the living room from the cooking area. Your tomato sauce is emitting pleasant aromas and you scrunch up your nose in thought. Some parmesan would taste lovely with this, but you can’t find cheese in the big fridge closest to the stairs. Maybe Jack has stored some in there?

Leaving the food to cook, you approach the smaller fridge, hoping to find cheese for your feast. What you find , instead, has you rushing toward the bathroom, happy you had taken the time to clean it as you come to a skidding halt in front of the toilet, throwing up.

Organs ... tons of organs ... in jars. You had seen lungs, hearts ... spleens and kidneys. You throw up again, coming up with stomach fluid and bile as the picture of the organs float through your mind. You vomit one more time before running back to the burning sauce and definitely overcooked pasta. Not that you care much, you aren’t hungry anymore anyways. Finding and cleaning the tupperware, you place the pasta and broccoli in the fridge. You have to get away from the smaller fridge. You need to get your mind off of Jack, off your situation. You need to rest and you need to heal.

Grabbing a book you had heard Jess once comment on, you take it outside, blanket wrapped around you, as you sit down in the sunshine, stomach queasy, tired and sore, the anklets making walking slow and difficult. A sigh escapes your lips, giving a quick thought about Jess. Is she missing you, has someone called the cops, are they looking for you? Your throat constricts, but you fight down the feeling, refusing to cry. So far, you are OK, nothing majorly bad has happened and you are alive.

You just hope things won't change ...

You just hope your organs won’t end up in the fridge with the others.

\-----------

When Jack returns, you have managed to calm your stomach down enough to eat some of the mushy pasta. In fact, you have the warmed up bowl with new sauce (something very simple) sitting on your lap and are reading a book in the rapidly cooling air of the small island. He is carrying bags which seem to be quite heavy, and you hear tinkling sounds, like glass hitting against glass.

You stubbornly refuse to look at him and also ignore what you imagine has to be in some of those bags, and resume your eating and reading. Even though you are being rude, Jack nods to you, obviously satisfied with the food you are ingesting. He pulls out something from one of the bags and throws it to you.

It is instinct rather than you actually wanting to catch the thing, but in the end, your eyes open comically wide and you throw a confused glance at his retreating back. He had gotten you cookies.

He had gotten you your favorite cookies.

And as you hear him put away the groceries, you are, again, confused as to why he brought you here, wherever here is.

Of course, you don’t like being imprisoned. Your mind returns to reading, though barely being able to due to the fading light. Suddenly, you can read a lot better, light spilling onto the page, revealing the words you had tried so hard to differentiate. When you look up, Jack nods to you again, leaving the lantern, an old rustic thing, next to you, illuminating you and your book.

You try not to, but a smile fleetingly passes your lips with a mumbled "Thank you".

What a weird guy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in case you're wondering why I'm posting a chapter in the middle of the week.  
> I'm celebrating.  
> Why you ask?  
> SILVER MEMORIES HAS FINALLY BEEN FINISHED! With a total of 27 (well, 26) chapters in total, I was finally able to finish the project that has been KILLING me. It's now officially at the beta stage, I might grab some chapter and reword them, but no, it is FINISHED.  
> My baby, oh gosh.  
> SO me posting will continue to be irregular, but at least you know that this story won't die until it's over.  
> My goodness. My first ever actually FINISHED fiction.  
> On other news, I have a few more projects started and in the planning process, along with some drawing and some drabbles.  
> Feel free to message me for ideas!


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13.  
"Come on, come on, come on!" you mumble, forcing your legs to move faster. The nightly air bites at your skin, cold and frosty in the winter. You miss the sunshine of spring or summer, anything really, but not this cold of night.

The flashlight, having been found underneath the bed, in the room where Jack had deposited some of your clothes, definitely not enough though, pierces through the night. You hear rustling and wood creaking, but you've made sure that Jack is asleep in his room before you left. It is the fourth day at the cabin, and you have spent the last day relaxing and resting your ankle that still throbs slightly from time to time. Your feet drag over the ground, because the freaking anklets make running faster almost impossible, and your muscles are aching from the effort.

Finally, the light pierces through the thick, black foliage, illuminating the bay where you almost drowned.

"Ha, I'm awesome, I knew it!" you whisper, quickly, or, well, as quickly as possible, dashing towards the boat tied to a tree, partially hidden beneath the lush vegetation.

Another crack and rustling behind you makes you paranoid, flicking your eyes over your shoulder constantly, trying to catch anything in the complete darkness of the forest edge.

You pull yourself onto the boat, only to find, dismayed, that it is a motorized one. Worse, it’s a motorized one requiring a key. And even much worse, after a few minutes of searching, you know Jack hasn’t been stupid enough to leave the key on the boat.

As you set, trying to even pretend how to hotwire a bloody boat, a chuckle makes you squeal and fall back as your ankles basically refuse to move.

"Now now, don't go try something that will break the boat. We do need it for ... food." Jack comes out of the shadows, gracefully and deadly, stalking towards you like you're prey. You gulp, shrinking back into the chair of the boat, scared you have messed up beyond belief.

"You're so very, very, stubborn, [Name]." He sounds amused, instead of angry, which irks you. You're quite glad he doesn't sound angry, though.

"Yeah, well, maybe if you finally let me go back home!" you retort, crossing your arms in front of your chest, before uncrossing again as you notice that ... well, he's standing, you're sitting, and you both surely aren't on even footing. Ignoring the outstretched hand, you stand and, like an idiot, stumble as the anklets impede your movement. His hand quickly grabs you by the waist, holding you upright.

"You should be more careful, [Name]." he whispers, chuckling as he feels your shiver.

"And you should remove these bloody shackles and let me go home." you growl, shaking his hands off your skin, the warmth clinging to you like glue. You shiver again and you can hear his smirk through the mask.

"Maybe, one day, if you stop trying to run away. The waters here aren't very forgiving and it would be such a shame to lose you to them." Your eyes widen comically again and he laughs, his head thrown back in mirth. The skin of his throat seems oddly colored, but you can't really see it in the moonlight, and his laugh, although aimed at your demise, still makes your blood boil slightly. It's warm and rich and strong.

"Relax, [Name], if I wanted you dead, we wouldn't be having this conversation. But, please, do us both a favor and stop trying to run away, yes? Even if it does amuse me quite a bit." He grabs your hand, pulling you towards the edge of the boat, before grasping your waist again and lifting you over the edge, your feet landing in the water next to his.

"Now, if you're done with your adventure, I think we should return home. It's getting late and -" He looks you up and down as you are standing in front of him clad in shorts and a tank top, the only type of clothing you own as Jack hasn’t bothered to get anything else so far. "- I think you must be feeling quite cold."

As if to emphasize his words, a shivers passes your body and he hummed in response.

The trip back home is quiet and cold. You drag your feet again, feeling the exhaustion taking over you, the anklets not helping in the least. Jack keeps giving you sideway looks, but keeps the silence intact. You are grateful for the small reprise.

Finally home, you let yourself fall in front of the fire again, the flames warming you up to where you are feeling drowsy. You look back at the kitchen area, where you hear Jack do something which you can’t quite discern. Shrugging, you grab the book you had been reading yesterday, picking up where you have left off. Though your focus is quickly broken by the smell of something ... burning? You jump up, rushing into the kitchen only to see Jack standing at the stove, something burning in a pot.

"Wh-what is this? Jack?"

"I-I was trying to cook some pasta..."

You stare at the burnt mess, before looking back at Jack who is rather confused as to why this cooking process didn't go as planned.

"Did you add water?" you inquire, biting your lip to keep back a chuckle, grabbing the pan and throwing it under the faucet.

"Yeah, a spoonful." He sounds so serious. The hold on your lip breaks along with your resolve not to laugh, doubling over in mirth.

"Jack, you need to add a lot more water than that!" you snicker, adding some soap to the mess to try and soften the charcoal like residue.

His simple "Ah." makes you dissolve into another fit of laughter.

\----

The water is running in the bathroom. You see that Jacks clothing lay crumpled up on the couch, his mask, however, is no where in sight. It's been two days since the "kitchen disaster" as you have come to dub it and you spent the previous day scrubbing the kitchen and the bathroom clean, both downstairs as well as upstairs. While before those rooms had only been marginally clean enough to use, they are now spotless, apart from some areas where you either couldn't reach or that are damaged by weather and time.

You slowly approach the hoodie lying on the couch. You have yet to see Jack’s face, or any his skin for that matter, so you feel confused as to why he would just leave his clothing lying around when he has been so careful to always be dressed when you are in his presence, but you don’t care too much about that now. You have seen him toying with something metallic in the pockets of his hoodie and that means either one of two things: He has the scalpel in there, which you have come to see quite often in the last few days, or he has left the key behind. Since he doesn’t leave any sharp things around you, such as knives or glass, you don’t think he'd forget the scalpel in his clothes. Your smile widens when you reach into the pocket and pull out a key.

A small silver key.

A small silver key with a small tag saying "18 Vengeance" ... the same model as the boat.

You muffle your shout of victory with your hand, fist pumping the air in joy.

Silently, you leave the cabin, making sure to be as quiet as possible, while still trying to be swift. Of course, the bells on the anklets are annoying you, but after yesterday, you have learnt to muffle the sound by stuffing little strips of cloth into the opening and taping it down.

You move quickly yet with a lot of difficulty through the woods again, the keys held in a death grasp, excited to get off of this bloody island. You spare a thought to leaving Jack here, but shrug it off as unnecessary. You are sure he knows of other ways to get help and get off of there.

This time, it takes you longer to find the boat. Jack has hidden it a bit better, long thick branches covering the silver hull, but a stray beam of moonlight hits it just so and you do let out a joyful whoop this time. You quickly climb on board, the anklets hindering you more than you'd have thought, and move to the front of the boat.

The front of the boat where a note is stuck to the window ...

You recognize Jack’s handwriting almost immediately, and you shiver again, even though Jack had finally gotten you a jacket.

"You really are quite stubborn.  
Come back home now.  
\- Jack"

The growl comes unannounced out of your throat, frustrated and angry, you jam the key into the ignition.

You try to jam it, that is. The key doesn’t go in. The key doesn’t fit. It isn’t the right key.

Defeated, you let yourself fall back down on the floor of the boat, a heavy sigh escaping your lips as you rake your fingers through your hair. Ok, so the bastard has planned this. That's fine, you can deal with this and the smug butthole.

Your trip back to the cabin is filled with your imagination, how you'd wring Jack’s neck, how he'd plead for mercy, how you’d stab little pins into his arms, how you'd torture him -

You stop your thoughts quickly as you set foot into the cabin, and Jack, smug and arrogant, is sitting on the couch, watching TV, as if nothing has happened. You can, however, tell he's smirking by the way the mask tilts slightly to the side. You'd become quite good at discerning this.

"You need to get me shampoo, shower cream and body lotion then. And we're almost out of milk." you say, plopping down next to him as he pats the couch.

"Glad to see you're coming to your senses, [Name]." He says, and yep, that bastard is smirking.

"Shut up and give me the remote control."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14.

Coughing. Coughing hard, racking breaths make your chest hurt and your head pound. Your brain is full of static, your lungs don’t work properly and you cough ... and cough ... and cough ... You can hear Jack somewhere, talking to someone. How they came here, you have no idea.

It's been a few days since you last tried to escape and you and Jack have started to come to a speaking arrangement. While Jack would ask you questions about various things, mainly about how to cook specific foods, you'd answer to the best of your ability while trying to remain as distant as possible.

When doing the asking questions stuff, though, Jack would often retreat somewhere and not appear for a few hours. You don’t mind though, you take those quiet times to read another book or write your adventures on the computer.

How bad you wish you could have a quiet time right now. The static in your brain is pressing in, drowning out the entire world. You can't even hear Jack anymore, who has showed up at the door with knowing eyes and a smile, as he holds you while the coughing takes a crescendo, growing and making you feel like your breath is being shaken out of your body.

Just as quick as it started, it stops.

Jack’s hands are rubbing circles onto your back, holding your hair out of your face as you dry heave from the quantity of coughing you have done. Nothing comes out though, since it is early morning and you didn’t have breakfast yet. Jack’s cool hand on your skin feels like heaven.

"[Name]?"

You nod to indicate you are listening and press your overheated skin into his hand, trying to cool yourself down.

"I need to go. I'll be gone for a while, but you'll have enough food for the time I'll be gone. Just nod if you understand what I'm saying."

Your nod makes him take his hand away but you grab it again and press it to your cheek, the cool texture of the glove helping you relax again.

"Y-yeah, I'll be alright. What was that though?"

He pulls his hand out of your grasp, coughing once before readjusting his hoodie.

"My boss." is all he says before standing and leaving, throwing a quick look and wave back at you.

Shrugging to yourself, you cuddle into the pillows and go back to sleep, dreaming of tall men and white faces.

\-------

When Jack had said he wasn't returning for a while, you assumed he had meant a few hours or maybe a day or two.

The first two days, you decided to clean the entire house. You literally went on a rampage with bleach, dusters, window cleaners, mops and rags. Apart from Jack’s fridge and Jack’s room (which you don't dare to enter and is locked anyways), the house is now spotless.

During this time, you stumbled upon all the books, notes and diaries you had noticed on your first day here. You have piled them in the study and decided to go through them later.

On the third day, Jack not having returned yet, you got a bit worried about his whereabouts. What if he won't come back? What if he died and you are stuck here now? You quickly discarded these thoughts, however, trying to keep yourself from panicking, and wrote more in the diary you are now keeping on your computer. At this point, it has become therapeutic and you don't want to stop writing anyways. Although this kind of pastime takes your mind off Jack, it doesn't work out quite right. Remembering the large pile of papers, books and diaries in the study you went to inspect it.

On the fourth day, you finally managed to organize the documents, papers and books into various piles. There is the "Burn it" pile, consisting mainly of books and other things so damaged by the weather and the decay the house has been in that they aren't readable anymore. There is the pile of normal books, books you are going to gladly return to the shelves once you have organized those alphabetically. There is the interesting pile, books and other things you want to give a read, including, but not restricted to, a book on human anatomy and on human illnesses. You aren't sure if the organs in the fridge are human, but to be honest with yourself, you strongly believe it.

And then there is the "Very interesting" pile. This consists mainly of papers, books and diaries all signed. You have found quite a few more of those laying around, some signed with "Nadia", some with "F.N" and the ones which caught your attention the most with "Felicity".

You vaguely remember Jack calling you something very similar on that day he had taken you away to this place. Even before, he had said something about someone he had lost, hadn't he?

Although you try your best to put these pesky thoughts out of your mind, you aren’t able to. Curiosity as to why he hasn't killed you yet, why he is keeping you here, what this place is in the first place keeps you nervous and antsy.

So, hoping to find answers to some questions, you grab one of the diaries Nadia has left behind, and settle into the lounger in the garden. You have to clean out here eventually as well, maybe weed out the garden a little, it looks chaotic. You have chosen the earliest diary you could find, the pages slightly damp and some of them just outright moldy, but still readable enough.

"Dear Diary,  
Father was quite angry today. I think something went wrong at the factory and I don't think he liked seeing me cry when I broke the plate. It's unfair though, I didn't do it on purpose, why was he so angry?  
He said that maybe, had sister not been allergic, she would have been more of a help, that this wouldn't happen! It's not fair.”

“Dear Diary,  
Today is a good day. Father has finally let me help at the factory. He said that I can work with him because now we're sure the silver isn't bad for me. It's been a few days since he's let me help out, but we do need the money. It's almost my birthday too, so dad said we could go to the river then. I'm excited, I haven't been to the river in a while. It's very peaceful there.”

“Dear Diary,  
Father keeps looking at me weird, like something's wrong. He got a letter from sister, or, from sister’s parents, and I think he's upset of what was in it. I also think he knows I stole the neighbor’s cake, but he hasn't said anything."

You stare at the pages, frowning. Have these two lived here before, Nadia and her father? And if so, where are they now? Looking at the date, you notice that this has been dated not even 7 years ago. The cabin itself looks like it had been deserted for a few years, so maybe you can start from the end and work yourself forwards ... Your curiosity, you tell yourself, has nothing to do with jumping to the end of the story. After all, even if every story has a beginning , sometimes it is OK to start with the end.

You lay the diary to the side, sighing, then retrieve the most recent one from the neat stack next to the computer.

A quick glance tells you that the newest one had been not even 3 years ago, and is, by far, the book that is in best shape out of the many diaries. You still have another one, dated in the same year as the one you are currently holding, but decide to leave that one for later. A quick peek at the last page has you laughing already, a picture scribbled on the bottom of the page, depicting two kids, one of them with his, because it was definitely a male, hair hanging down while the girl stood on his back trying to get to a box of cookies. Although more like a sketch, this girl has quite a bit of talent in her drawings, you have to give her that.

A bad smell makes itself present as you move across the kitchen to head to the spot you now deem yours. The foul odor, as if something is rotting, turns your stomach to a point where you think you won't be able to muster an appetite for dinner. Dejectedly lying the diary on the couch for future reading, you make your way to the kitchen. The thought of food really makes you want to throw up. Carefully opening the fridge, you stick your nose into it and sniff. Nothing. Apart from a wrinkly dried up tomato, it smells fine. You proceed to smell inside the cupboards. Although the scent is stronger here than in the fridge, it is only due to something in the vicinity being rotten. You dread the only other place you could think off with rotten ... well, not food, is it?

As you carefully approach the smaller fridge, you gag, the smell definitely growing stronger the closer you get. You grab your courage and throw the door open. The smell, which had been encased with the fridges door is powerful enough to make you stumble back. You almost laugh at the image created by your mind, of healthy flowers turning black and dead at the presence of the smell. A few of the jars containing the organs you suspect as human have a greenish tinge to it, the liquid inside of it thicker than usual. Even though the jars are screwed shut, you still smell the putrid gases ... or maybe you are imagining it, as one of the lids is apparently unscrewed.

Making up your mind, you quickly grab a bag that Jack has left behind and start rounding up the jars that are rotten, screwing the lid of the open one shut and dumping them inside the bag. You move the bag outside and wait a few minutes before returning to the kitchen. The smell has severely diminished, though you can still smell it like a bad after taste. Deeming that you have gotten all the rotten organs out of there, the next question poses itself to you.

Now what?

You're not really sure that these are human, though Markus' words are running through your brain, how Roberts had been hollowed out, how his organs had been missing ... Huh, with what has happened lately, you have completely forgot Jack had killed one of your colleagues. Your indifference scares you a little.

But still, what to do? Should you dump the organs in the river? It would make sure that they would be gone and you wouldn't have to worry about it anymore. But, what if these are human after all? Should you bury them and pretend to hold a speech? Scoffing, you grab the bag and make your way to the river, the anklets softly chiming as the cloth has fallen off and the bells are free to ring. 

When you arrive at the cliffs you close your nose with a washing pin you found lying in the garden and unscrew the jars.

Even with the pin the smell almost makes you throw up. You dump the contents over the side of the small cliff and into the river, the thick slimy substance in the jar trickling out before the organ itself falls over the edge with a "thwop" sound, as it unglues itself from the bottom of the jar.

You pretend to be able to see the organs floating rapidly down the stream, but it's more the thought that somehow you should pay respects or at least remember the things that now were surely gone.

"Farewell my friends", you mutter, "see you on the other side."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15. 

"Dear diary,  
today the boy showed up again. He seems to be very quiet but I can't really tell if he's just shy or not. He's like me, kind of, and he just sits on the swing and stares at me. I think. In any case, if he comes by tomorrow again, I will speak to him. Being all alone here is so boring, so I'm happy he's here, even if he's quiet.” 

“Dear Diary,  
he did come over today, I was so happy to see him! I told him my name and said hello. I think he was surprised I talked to him? He's very nice and very polite, though. He even helped me up when I tripped over one of the chains here. He's very gentle.  
I haven't seen father this week yet. I hope he comes back soon. I miss him.”

“Dear Diary,  
the boy has been coming now every day. His favorite place is on the swing, but he shouldn't sit there because the branch is old. He brought me a gift today, some kind of a hand-held device with a game. It was fun, but I prefer talking to him. I don't like the silence.”

“Dear Diary,  
the strange boy looked at me funny today, but I don't know why. I can tell we're a bit different sometimes, but he's still very sweet. Today we played hide and seek, though the chains of course gave me away. He hid on the roof, the cheater! I also told him about my sister that father keeps away from me. I don't think he understood what I meant, but that's ok.”

“Dear Diary,  
the boy told me about some of his friends and how they bully him for being silent. Is that why he came to our little island? I don't even know how he gets here because I don't think he has a boat. Anyways, I'm just glad he's here.”

“Dear Diary,  
the boy and I spent the whole day reading , writing and drawing. Well, I did, at least, and he kind of just pestered me to see what I drew. I drew sister, though I'm not really sure how she actually looks. Is she like me? I know she can't wear silver, so I drew a golden bracelet, like the silver one I have. I also drew my friend. I'll probably give the picture to him later, it's funny to see him curious.”

“Dear diary,  
I haven't seen father in 3 weeks now. I'm pretty hungry. Today when I was crying, the boy cried with me because he doesn't like to see me sad. We have the same kind of crying. Is he really like me?”

“Dear Diary,  
The boy had to leave a few minutes ago. I don't think he left me. But my stomach hurts so much, I just want food and father has been gone for so long. I can't move that much, my body hurts and it's so cold, but when I pull the covers over me it's too warm. I wish the weather would decide what it wants.  
.  
It hurts.  
.  
Where's Daddy?” 

“Dear Diary,  
The boy brought me food yesterday. He wanted me to eat the ... thing ... he brought raw, but I couldn't. He's not very good at cooking, but he cooked the meat anyways and I swear it was the best thing I have ever eaten in my life. He smiled and grinned and laughed when I said that. Whatever it was, he's happy that I liked it.”

“Dear Diary,  
My friend keeps coming now everyday with food. It tastes weird, but it's good. I've taught him how to cook it properly with salt and such. He's brought me tomatoes too and we made stew. It was so good.” 

“Dear Diary,  
The TV is working again, I don't know how my friend did it. We have a small satellite now, and we watch silly movies together. He makes fun of the horror ones, saying it looks too fake. To be honest, I'm glad it does, I don't really like the nightmares.  
I do miss the factory though, how the silver shines in the light. I still have the bracelet father gave me, the one with the small bell, the one that sister couldn't wear. Father said it hurt her, but I don't understand how something so beautiful can hurt anyone. I miss working with the silver."

You stop reading, taking a large gulp of the orange juice. You have spent almost your entire day reading Felicity’s diaries. She's a small girl, from what you have read, though you have yet to see a picture of the girl herself. She once had fun dying her hair to annoy her friend - the boy she has mentioned in her diary entries -, but didn't have dye in the cabin so she has crushed leaves and plastered her hair with the paste turning it green.

She had lost her glasses once and had her friend in a fritz because she couldn’t see too well without them. She never calls her friend by name in the entries, which strikes you as odd but you don't really mind.  
From what you could tell they are very close though. You're unsure as to why she has chains around all the time, or why her father has left her, if something has happened. You know, from earlier entries, that she had joined him on one of her birthdays, working at an old silver factory, because her sister wasn’t able to do so. A few entries scared you though, such as the second to last one on one of the book:~

"Dear diary,  
My skin is growing weird. It feels weird when I touch it and it's growing darker. When I went to father about it, crying, he looked at me with wide eyes and sent me outside to pray alone. I think he's still praying."

It seems weird, but she had written this in summer. Had she never had a tan before?

One of the diaries explains the cabin you are currently in, though. It had been an heirloom from her mother who had passed away after the girl’s birth and left it for her. Her father had brought her here to relax, for vacations, on her birthday. He had left to go to work the next week, but always brought her food ... Well, almost always.

You sigh, standing up. You are getting used to the anklets at least.

Jack has been gone for a week and a few odd days now. Although you are worried for your own sake, because if he dies, you can’t get away from this place, you notice that you also don't want him to get hurt. Not that you care about him ... of course not.

His warm laughter flickers into your mind, as you were you running around with a burning towel you had forgotten near the stove. Or the way he had helped you up that one time when you had fallen flat on your face after tripping on the Xbox console’s wires and then fixed your nose up.

At least he is a gracious kidnapper.

Sighing again, you lay the diary down on one of the chairs nearby and look outside at the garden. You sigh. You huff. You groan.

"Fine." you growl, grabbing a pair of gloves and a towel and a few other utensils you think might be of interest, and start to leave the house to go finally tend to the garden. Then you see it. On the floor, a picture is lying face-down; it probably had fallen out of the diary you, quite carelessly, dropped on the chair.

You pick it up and gasp.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

The picture had been taken by one of those instant cameras. You had seen one of those upstairs in the study, broken and fractured. The picture is old and slightly faded, but you can see it clearly... clearly enough... A girl, a teenager, is sitting on the swing outside, holding a cat in her arms, crying with a huge smile on her face. Her hair is high on her head in a pony tail, her white glasses framing grey eyes, tears streaming down her face in happiness. Black tears. Black tears streaming down her gray face.

Something about her is like looking into an extremely warped mirror, but you can't really put your finger on it.

You hold the picture, inspecting it. She seems happy and you notice that the swing she sits on is the one outside the house and there, around her ankle, chains hold her tied to it. You can't see where the chains are attached to, but you can only imagine it's to the cabin. She's small and thin and she looks very undernourished, but she looks happy enough.

On her arm a small silver chain hangs with a bell. It seems, again, oddly familiar, like one of the jewelry pieces you have at home, though you hadn't worn it in a while, as the gold coating was flaking off and the silver underneath caused blisters to appear.

Turning the picture around you read the words "It's alright now, I've got you. And I won't let you go again. Felicity.". It's dated about two years ago. You look at the diary, which had Felicity had started writing two and a half years ago, starting with her being with her father in the cabin on this island. The picture must have been taken by her friend or her father, but considering the date inscribed on it, and comparing it with the other information provided through her diaries, it had to have been her friend. Her father had been MIA for at least 2 months and still not shown. This would make the girl in the picture about... 16, 17 years old? 

And another question poised itself. The tint of her skin bothers you considerably. You've never heard of any disease such as this, or birth defect, but you know you'd be doing research into the subject if the chance ever presented itself.

Did this mean the boy, her friend, also had grey skin or something? She did mention them being similar didn't she? And what about her sister?

This was all a bit confusing if you had to be asked, maybe you just needed a break and try and think about something else.

Setting the picture on the countertop you grab the utensils again to take care of the garden. It's sunny outside, though the ground is a bit squishy and soft from the rain from the previous day. This makes pulling out weeds a lot easier. You first clean the garden set, making the white paint underneath the grime and the mold shine through. It would need a layer of paint, which you had seen in the very damp basement on your first day here. You hadn't ventured down there again, but you think you could do it later.

The grass was tall and unkempt, filled with weeds. You set out to weed it at least halfway decently before grabbing the man held lawn mower and giving the lawn a decent mowing. Music is blaring from the TV inside and you happily hum to the tunes.

Then the flowerbeds feet your wrath. You dig into the moist ground, pulling out weeds and stones and only let up once the flowers shine in their new and improved area. The roses have little buds forming, the bloodroots are coming out of the ground and the Hyacinths are opening their sweet and fragrant blue bells. You grin as a breeze cools your sweaty brow, taking in the colorful scenery, and finally turn to the last area. The carnations are in bloom, weeds however mar the sweet sight. The blue forget-me-nots are starting to wilt due to being overshadowed by the pesky green vegetation surrounding it. The Ivy had grown bigger and fuller since the first time you saw it, almost killing the flowerbed in its wake. You weed the bed, giving the flowers room to bloom and prosper, then turn your attention to the ivy. It's a difficult task, the roots and the little glue cups sticking to the surface of the stone.

The stone, you see now, has an engraving in it, carved and painted on somehow, black tears drawn onto its ragged surface.

The stone that reads "Felicity Nadia" in silvery faded letters, with the date of 2 years previous.

You retreat almost immediately, standing away from the flowerbed... the grave!, of the girl you had seen the pictures of, the girl whose words you had been reading, whose drawings you had laughed at. The girl who was, apparently, dead.

Of course you had had your suspicions... Felicity! How could you have been so stupid! Jack had said he had lost someone he cared for, he took you here, where Felicity had been, this being Felicity's cabin after all, right?

But why?

" Your voices are so alike... " you remember his words from when you had seen him in your room, a spleen on your bed.

Could it be, the boy, the friend, that it had been Jack? It had to be! They had to be! How else would he know about this place since apparently she had died here? And your voice being similar to hers had maybe triggered a response in him, missing his friend. You thought that kidnapping someone just because they sound similar to a deceased friend is a bit overkill, but you knew Jack didn't function quite like other humans.

Wait. A spleen.

You double over and puke, the chicken soup you had made burning its way up your throat, thick with stomach acid.

If Jack was the boy in her diaries, he had brought her food, and maybe he had assumed that they were the same because Nadia kept saying they were the same. Jack had brought her food, and what does Jack eat? The stench that the organs had left in the kitchen still made your stomach turn. You remember something else he'd said, something that made you throw up again, stomach heaving with the effort.

" She used to like them, do you know? The Spleens?"

She had had no idea what she was eating, she'd been starving, her father MIA bringing her no food. She had devoured the meat Jack had brought, kept eating it because she was hungry, never asking what it was apart from in her diaries. She had been eating human organs without even knowing.

You briefly wonder how she died. But for today? You've had enough.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17.

"Who was she?"

Jack had returned during the night. He hadn't said anything to you as were lying in bed. He just made his way to his room, closed the door, and had gone to sleep. You laid there with your eyes wide open, waiting for any movement after that, but none had come. Eventually you'd fallen asleep to the rushing of the river outside.

"I -"

"No. Jack, I've been here alone for over a week. I've been here for, what, over a month altogether? You owe me answers. And I want to know who she is." You press the picture into his hands which, you see now, are shaking slightly. He has made you breakfast, burnt toast with jam, but hasn't said a single word until just now. His defeated sigh lets you know that you've won, but the way his shoulders sag doesn't fill you with victory. Instead it fills you with a sort of sadness, empathy you think, and you squeeze his shoulder, taking him outside to look at the clean garden, the grave now blooming and shining beautifully in the sun, a myriad of color.

"She ... Her name was Felicity Nadia. She was my best and only actual friend. She was always happy, always smiling and helpful. She was beautiful." He pulls the picture up to his mask, eyeing it. You wonder how he looks underneath it, but decide now is not the time to pry.

"Her father, this terrible man, he brought and left her here. I had seen them come here with a boat, one that he left docked on the other side of the river, so when he left I thought I had an easy meal and a home for the next week. But when I got here, she ..." His shoulders tremble as if he is crying. A drop of the black ooze falls down his cheek and onto his glove and you absentmindedly wipe it away from the black material.

"She was beautiful. She was just like me, I had never met someone like me. But, she was chained down to the house and I couldn't get her free, not that she wanted me to. She was always smiling though, so trusting, and she trusted me with her life and I trusted her with mine. I stayed with her when I could, sometimes getting food for us. She would talk about everything really. About her sister she knew she had, whom she'd often heard stories about. She often also talked about the silver she had worked with, how beautiful it was. She was so like me, well, almost."

Confused, you tilt your head. "What do you mean when you say that you're the same?" you finally mumble and almost scold yourself for asking such a redundant question, but he turns his head so that he's facing you.

"You promise you won't scream?" His question catches you off guard, but you still nod, your heart racing as you watch his hands move towards his mask.

You're not quite sure what you're scared of, but you surely didn’t expect to look upon a teenager, the moment the mask is removed. He's got very nice features, the same grey skin you have seen the girl have in the picture, but somehow different. Black tears are clinging to his cheeks, more trickling out from the corners of his eyes, dripping down his nose onto his now bare hands, also grey in color. Again, without thinking, you brush away the drop from his hand, and for once feel his actual skin. It's warm and slightly rough, apparently due to him doing the things you don't want to think about him doing.

However, it's his eyes that fascinate you the most. Or well, the lack of them. You think that, if you hadn't read Nadias diaries, if you hadn't been here for over a month, you'd be scared mindless by the abyss that those eyes are posing, holes with no ending, but you're not.

Another tear runs down his cheek, his face trained on you and you can tell he's waiting for a reaction. You see yourself, as if in third person, lifting a hand to his cheek, brushing a thumb underneath the holes he has for eyes, brushing away one of the tears pooling down. He turns his face into your hand, nuzzling it slightly, seeking comfort, and you don't know how but you know he's staring at you.

His cheeks darken in color, he looks quite pleasant when he isn't being creepy, and his face, though young, maybe 19 or 20, is quite attractive. You blush hard at your own thoughts and quickly remove your hand from his cheek, coughing.

"I, uh - I think, uh - I think I'm tired." You stumble over your words, then remember it's late in the morning and almost slap yourself for your stupid excuse. He chuckles, the same sound that before had irked you so much, filling you with a warm feeling in your stomach you really, really, really want to ignore. You think you might be going crazy.

"Yes, quite, it's getting quite late, isn't it?" he mocks you, then laughs outright as you blush a dark shade of pink with a barely audible "Shuddup". A breeze wafts over the flowers, the air around you turning nice and sweet. You don't move, he doesn't move, both of your gazes locked on the grave.

"She was something special, wasn't she?" you ask, turning towards the grave fully. You feel Jack tense next to you, then relax. A quick glance at him shows he has not put the mask back on and a small smile, a loving smile, plays around his lips. You can tell by the glimpses you get of his teeth, as he talks, that they are quite sharp and pointed, not human, but this doesn't scare you at all, his murderer vibe dampened by the smile and love he shows towards a girl that has been dead for almost two years.

"She was. You should have met her, I think you would have gotten along with her perfectly. Once, after one of the hunting trips I took, I got hurt. Just a small scratch. But she went crazy, making me rest for about two days before she let me even get up. When I got her the cat she was ecstatic, I don't think I've ever seen someone so happy ... and ... she was like me, but so different at the same time. She taught me I could have fun and be happy as well." He turns to you with a smile, grabbing your hand and squeezing it.

"I'm sorry I took you here, but your voice is so similar to hers that I thought ... I thought maybe I could bring her back, somehow. And also - Never mind, it was silly." It's almost a whisper, but you still catch it.

"And also what, Jack?" you insist, just this once, curiosity getting the best of you.

"I ... Look, I'm not crazy, ok? I thought you would be like her, like me. The first time I saw you, I could see resemblances, but ... you're not like us. Not even close. You're just ... human? Maybe Felicity was special, I don't know." You frown at his words, confused beyond belief.

"Jack, I don't think I understand."

He lifts his head, holes boring into your eyes.

"Yes, I didn't think you would. Who are your parents, [Name]?"

His question strikes you as odd, but you frown and give him the name of your parents, curious as to where this is going.

"And you're sure they're your parents, yes?" He says, taking a step closer, grabbing your hand tightly.

"O-of course, I mean, of course they are. They raised me after all." You have never doubted this information before, and it isn't like you have talked to them in almost a year, but they are your parents, and they’ve let you live your life, calling every once in a while to see if you are OK. You wonder if they're worried right now.

"Do you have your baby pictures at home? Do you have pictures of your first three years of life? Do you remember, [Name]?" And no, you don't. You don't remember and you don't have them in your house, having burnt apparently in an old house you had lived in. But you can't remember, you don't know.

"N-no ..." you stutter, and he smiles faintly, gently. He places the picture of Felicity in your hand and you are once again struck with the familiarity. No ... What, how...? You stare at the picture as Jack retreats to the house only to come back with papers and pictures moments later, things you haven't seen so far, things he probably has kept in his room.

"I'm sorry to spring this on you, I was waiting for a better time, when maybe we were friends but ... you needed to know and you were being nosey after all." He sighs, pushing papers into your hands. It's paper clippings, pictures, documents, things you don't want to look at. Why he has them, you don't want to know, but you still look at them.

Your birth certificate is amongst them first, the one you know is yours but you have never took the time to look at it. Your name is shining back at you. Then you take the pictures of a cute baby, holding an adorable blanket. A small red mark is on her wrist ... a small red mark that resembles a small scar you still have to this day.

Jack, noticing you looking at the picture, pulls the sleeve of your shirt up to show you the scar.

"Allergic to silver ... Your father didn't know, so they gave you a small little chain with a bell on." He pointed to the small chain on Felicity's picture.

"It hurt you ... so they coated it in gold ... You know what I'm talking about, right?"

You are almost about to deny it when you stop. You nod, remembering the little bracelet you have never really worn, due to the gold coating flaking off, and sigh.

Moving on, you take the next paper and your eyes widen at the content. It's a letter, your father’s familiar handwriting scribbled on it, dated years back. You have no idea how Jack even got these, why he has these. You don't want to try and rationalize.

"After Felicity died I ... I remembered her saying she had a sister, and I thought ... Well, I thought maybe you were like her, that I could have her back ... somehow." You don't want to believe this, but small hints have been given to you over the years, things you have dismissed. The gifts you received every year on your birthday, the occasional letters from a man in the family whom you have never met, the fact that, indeed, you don't actually have pictures of yourself with your family as a baby.

Shaking your head, you hand him the papers back, a slight tremor in your limbs.

"I ... I'm not going to say it's OK, you did kidnap me and I'm still stuck here -" You shake your ankle and the bell attached jingles "- but I read her diaries, I know more or less how she was ... I guess ... She seemed very sweet and, I guess what I'm trying to say is ... I understand? But I'll need to talk to my parents to believe this, because ... to be honest ... this is too much ..." You falter in your words, but smile anyways. "It does mean I would like to go back home." you add, almost as an afterthought.

He smirks at your words, pulling your chin up almost the same way he has done that day in your room. He inspects your face, lowering his own in a way that implies he's checking you out. Your blush deepens and his smirk does as well.

"Sorry, but I quite like having you here. At least I know you're safe and really, am I that bad company?"

Your annoyed huff makes him chuckle.

"I just want my life back, is all. I mean -"

"No." The smile is gone, his demeanor and stance hard and cold. You pale, wrenching your chin from his grasp and take a step back, angry, before you turn around and storm away towards the bay. A quick dip in the cool water should relieve the burning anger in your chest.

Unbeknownst to you, Jack watches you go, a pensive look on his face.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18.

 

Week 6, day 3 of captivity.

Jack has not put on his mask lately. I think he might have been using it because he was afraid of scaring me or something. In any case, I am starting to get more used to seeing his eyes ... or uh ... his non-existing eyes, basically. Though they aren't that bad, he's quite fetching to be honest.  
I've been trying to teach him a few cooking things, like pancakes and just cooking pasta. He's not very good at it, though that is only to be expected. I think he does only eat organs, I have not seen him eat anything else so far.  
I'm not sure if I can trust Jack with what he told me, but I'm inclined to believe it. I'll need to talk to father or to mother to find out the truth, but I still remember them asking how I'd feel if I had a sister. I thought they meant that mother might be pregnant, but then again ...  
Jack has given me some space when I need it, though. I know he misses his friend. My sister?  
He leaves the house at night sometimes, and I really don't want to think about what he does during this time. He always comes home with jars and things. It's best if I don't think too much about it. He's leaving right now, so I think it's about time for bed.

Week 6, day 5 of captivity.

I think I might end up blushing to death. Is that even a thing? Making a long story short (which definitely involved me being pissed at him, again, for not letting me leave), I forgot my clothes back in the room. Had just taken a shower too when I noticed and ran off to get the clothes, and yup ... yeah, Jack was laughing his butt off as I rushed past.  
He did compliment my hair though after, he's being awfully nice and sweet. I'm not really sure if I like the way this makes me feel, I mean, there's this weird tingly feeling in my stomach when I see that charming smile he throws my way. He's quite cute. No, no, [Name], get your shit together, will you!  
I've read a few more of the letters he gave me, and I'm scared that this might actually be true. If it is, why would my father, my real one, just give me away like that?  
Found out he also likes to watch [Favorite Show], but he didn't really explain what he liked about it. Either he was lying or he has memory issues, since he didn't really understand the show too well. Or maybe he hasn't watched it in a while. Meh.

 

Week 6, day 6.

Jack isn't anywhere in the house, which is odd, usually he's here in the morning. I think I'll go to the river bay today and splash around a bit, since always seeing the same four walls is boring. And I think I've read every book in this house. As well as the papers Jack left in the study. The letters are quite interesting and ... well, they sound like father a bit too much to be fake, I guess?  
I'm taking the book on strange diseases and conditions with me though, to the river, I want to see if my sister (this is weird) had been sick. Reading through her diaries, she did mention her skin growing darker ... maybe?

20:43.

Jack brought some flowers home and put them in the room. He said it was because he felt bad for having left rotting organs in the fridge. I think it's just because he knows I'm struggling a bit with the whole sister thing. The scent of the sweet alyssum is amazing, especially at night. The cold is receding so I think I'll start sleeping with the window open. The rushing of the river is becoming quite soothing at night. Hm, I wonder if Jack feels the same way. I wonder if he also chooses flowers specifically? Forget-me-not's seem a bit symbolic, don't they? I should ask him eventually, as soon as I murder the things in my belly making me feel like I'm about to float off into the distance.

 

Week 7, day 1.

What a long tiresome day. Me and Jack spent some of the day absolutely destroying the side of the garden I hadn't been to yet. It's around the back and apparently is housing some kind of vegetables.  
Jack explained he had gotten it for Felicity - my sister, argh - a short while before getting her the cat. I don't think he wanted to explain why he did it.  
But the good thing is, I now have some fresh celery for the soup tonight, that will be awesome.  
Jack has also finally deemed it safe enough to remove these bloody anklets, so I feel like I'm light as a feather. He apparently got me the bracelet though, the one that I had back home... or maybe it was my sister’s? I'm not too sure, but it's coated in gold and it's not flaking off, so it's fine. And not to be cliché, but ... he did say that he wanted to know where I was, so that he can always be by my side. It's ... sweet, though slightly creepy. It makes me not want to take the silly, loud, thing off though.  
His torso though, when he took off his shirt back in the garden ... Holy macaroni and cheeseballs, I swear, if I don't die blushing, it'll be a miracle...  
But ...  
I'm not, I repeat, not, falling for a murderer!  
Maybe this is just that syndrome where you fall for your kidnapper but ... I don't know.

 

Week 7, day 3.

Jack almost kissed me this morning after a particularly harsh case of the coughing fit again, though he was interrupted by something coming from my laptop. He left this morning and hasn't come back home yet. I hope he won't be gone for too long.

 

Week 7, day 4.

He's still gone ... I think I also found out that Felicity was indeed sick ... I'll need to read up on it, but I only have the one book, so we'll see what comes up.  
If it IS Argyria though, then Jack is not afflicted by it, it doesn't cause you to not have eyes or those teeth and it surely doesn't cause you to eat human organs. I really want Jack to come back, maybe I can ask him if he knows about it?  
I kind of miss him, to be honest.

 

Week 7, day 5 of captivity.

Jack is still gone, and I have read everything I could find about Argyria. I think I can confirm that this is what my sister had. I would like to talk to a doctor to confirm my theory, but this isn't genetic. And it doesn't cause death. How did she die?

 

Week 7, day 6 of captivity.

Jack is still gone. Where is he?

 

Week 8, day 6 of Jack being gone.

Jack still hasn't returned. Please, I hope he's OK. I hope nothing happened to him.  
I think I may-


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19.

You startle awake because you are choking. Something is blocking your windpipes, your lungs burn for air, and you try to push the weight off you. The weight quickly gets up, letting you gulp in deep breaths of the sweet night air, though it doesn't let you go. It pulls you close and you can hear ragged, sharp breaths, feel them on the naked skin of your shoulder.

"J-Jack?" you whisper, catching a little bit of grey from the corner of your vision.

"Y-yeah, it's me, sorry, [Name], I just ... I'm so happy to see you." he whispers, pulling back and holding you at arm’s length, checking you up and down. Satisfied to see that you are OK, he pulls you into a hug again, which you return with more confusion in you than anything else.

"Is everything OK, Jack?" you ask. He nods, his teeth glimmering in the moonlight and you put a hand on his shoulder. The wince makes you retreat the hand quickly, only to notice it is wet and sticky and warm. He's bleeding.

"Jack!" You jump up, quickly turning on the light and taking in his appearance. His hair is wild, mask pulled to the side so that you can only see half of his face which is streaked with red spots. Blood. But quite obviously not his blood. His dark hoodie is gleaming though in the light, and you see that his shoulder gleams more brightly.

"Fuck, Jack, you're hurt!" you whisper in shock, before moving towards him and tugging at the bottom of the hoodie. He nods, quiet, and helps you remove the clothing, followed by the black T-shirt he is wearing underneath on colder days. His shoulder is black with his blood, but it's not bleeding anymore. You can see an incision, which indicates that Jack has been stabbed.

"You're not allergic to alcohol, right?" you inquire and he shakes his head. His facial expression is weird, almost as if staring at you in wonder or surprise, but you'd rather treat his wound before you find out what has happened.

"I'll be right back." You rush out of the room before he can even say a single word, dashing for the bathroom where Jack has stored some alcohol and bandages. You grab them, not trusting yourself with the sewing utensils. It doesn't look deep enough to need stitches though, so you hope a few bandages and a kiss would do the trick. You fight down the blush at not only your thought of kissing his shoulder better but also of the sight of him bare-chested in what you now call your room ... on your bed. Now is not, I repeat, not the time for these kind of thoughts.

You look at him apologetically as he hisses at the contact of the alcohol to his skin. The cut is towards his biceps so that you can wrap the bandage around and underneath the armpit to keep it clean.

"What happened?" you ask as you are gently wrapping his shoulder in gauze. It is only now that you notice that his mask is lying discarded on the bed and he's shaking slightly ... The bed dips as you sit down next to him, grabbing a hold of his hand and squeezing it reassuringly.

He seems more mad than sad, but you can tell he's upset.

"I - Before I tell you what happened, you have to know I kill people. I kill them and then I eat them. Sometimes I do this because I want to, but usually because I have to. For food ... or because my boss requires it of me."

You nod, most of this not news to you. You don't particularly agree with it, but you still nod.

"Good. I - My boss required me to check out a ... common interest of ours, see what was going on there because we had gotten wind that he was doing something. When I got there, I was caught by surprise as they had guessed, or something, that I was coming and - God dang, that bastard, I don't know what he's planning but I don't like it. If I could have, I would have killed him, right then, right there when I killed his silvery co-workers." He clenches his teeth, his hand wrapping around yours painfully. You let out a soft whimper and his features almost instantly soften as he gazes upon you. His hold grows gentle and his thumb grazes over your skin.

"I won't let him hurt you, you know?" he mumbles, then shakes his head as if to clear his thoughts.

"He killed someone I cared for, I won't let that happen again." he growls. You frown, before tilting your head.

"Felicity?" you ask, and his face snaps to yours again, before his shoulder slumps tiredly. He hisses out in pain.

"Yes."

You scoot closer to him, intertwining both of your fingers with a slight blush, then prompt him to continue, to explain.

"You know she looked like me right?" He barely waits for your nod before he continues "Well, her father ... your father ... knew she looked different. He was a highly religious man, very doting and loving to his family. Then your mother died when Felicity was born. I think the grief made him a bit crazy, he would constantly pray. Your sister told me that he did it to keep her and you safe, the sister that she couldn't have. You were poor, allergic to silver, which he worked with and which was always present in the house, so you were constantly sick. This is why he gave you away, [Name]. Your allergy." He stops and you nod, letting him know you have understood so far.

"But then, Felicity became like me, I don't know, I just know she was like me and it made me so happy to have someone to confide in, to be my friend. Your father though, he ... he went crazy. He thought your sister was a demon, possessed or something, evil, so he brought her here so that he wouldn't have to kill his daughter because ... I don't know, the man is crazy."

He stands, pacing the floor for a few seconds. "In any case, he left her here, to rot, to suffer, came by every week to bring her food, but he stopped ... I think he saw me and was then sure something was wrong. I - I don't know why he stopped. Maybe he understood she had to eat what I did? He saw me though for sure, caught us by surprise when we were both listening to music and ... I don't know. He came over quite often after, trying to catch me, blaming me for her being different. Always screaming about something, with candles and chalk and knives ... trying to exorcise your sister, I ... She ... Felicity always told me not to hurt him, that she loved him. Your father was a monster, [Name]! But your sweet innocent sister, she, just, she didn't want to see it."

You grab his hand again, pulling him into an embrace that has him shaking and quivering. Your shirt top feels wet and warm and you know he is crying.

"He killed her. Y-Your father just ... killed her. Just like that, she was gone." A sob rips out of his throat and you can tell now, tell that he's been alone and suffering because he has lost the only person that has told him he isn't the only one on this world like him.

You swear to never tell him that she had just been sick. That he is indeed one of a kind, that he is alone in this world in a way. You wouldn't dare do that to him.

His shaking increases, silent sobs racking his form. Worried, you pull him closer and all of a sudden, a pained shriek tears itself from his lungs. He breaks, and you hold him, trying not to let his pieces shatter completely.

"Why would he kill you?! What did you do to him that he had to take you away from me!? You're so beautiful, Felicity, I should never have left you, I should have stayed with you, never have let your father see me and think he was right! You died because I couldn't protect you! Felicity, why won't you answer me!?" He pushes you onto the bed, straddling you so that his face is over yours, his tears falling on your cheeks, cheeks flushes, face pained.

"Talk to me Felicity, please, please, please tell me you're not gone, please, I don't want to be alone anymore. Please forgive me! You gave me everything, only to take it away again! Why did I have to meet you, why do I - I hate you ... I don't want to be alone ..." he cries out. You're shocked for a few seconds, before lifting your hand to his cheek, wiping his tears away with a thumb. Your whisper is soft and understanding, barely audible, but it's apparent he hears it, as his face almost immediately relaxes, even if his shaking does not subside, or the hiccups of his cries. "It's not your fault. I promise, Jack, you are not alone."


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that the WILL be sexual content in this and the next chapter, so proceed with caution.
> 
> It is also my very first Lemon, so I hope you are gentle on me
> 
> Enjoy

Chapter 20. 

 

It had been hours, maybe 2 or 3, until Jack had finally stopped shaking and crying completely and fallen asleep. Though he had been in a state where he apparently didn't recognize you as yourself, calling you by your sister’s name repeatedly, you can't bring yourself to hold the broken, but slowly mending, boy - maybe a demon? - accountable for his words. 

 

You don't want to know the pain he has been going through and barely wish it upon your worst enemy. At this point, your biological father is becoming a possible candidate for exactly that. 

 

You remain in bed with Jack though, alternating between being asleep and watching him, his arms tightly wrapped around your waist as he is sleeping, his head cushioned on your chest. His breathing has turned regular, calm and serene, his brown hair tickling the tip of your nose. It is weird thinking that, at this precise moment, you are holding an organ eating murderer who has, indeed, killed a number of people in his lifetime. Deciding not to reside on that train of thought for too long, you try to disentangle yourself from Jack’s long limbs. He holds you closer, but eventually lets go to scratch his neck. Light is starting to stream through the open window, but not glaringly so, as it is still shadowed by the tall evergreen trees outside the cabin. 

 

Stretching, you make quick work of taking a shower then getting dressed in something a bit lighter. You decide to check on Jack before getting breakfast. 

 

Your eyes land on his figure, sitting in the bed, hair obviously ruffled by sleep, a smudge of dark on his cheek. The bed, of course, is a mess with his tears, blood and other people’s blood staining the sheets, which has been the main reason you had decided to take a shower. Speaking of, you wrinkle your nose. 

 

"Go take a shower, Jack, you reek." And with a smile, you turn and go into the kitchen to prepare some toast. You decide not to mention the previous night. 

 

The water in the upstairs bathroom running alerts you to the fact that Jack has indeed taken you up on the instruction and is washing the grime from his well built body. 

 

Geez, the guy just had a breakdown and you are thinking of his - admittedly hot - body. Very sympathetic of you, you chide yourself with a mental groan. 

You are so engrossed in scolding yourself over your thoughts, you don't notice the subject of your thoughts approaching you from behind, until it is too late. 

 

You breath leaves you in a huff as he slams you against the wall, your wrists pinned above your head, the shirt sliding up to reveal your navel. 

 

"J-Jack, w-what is -" You briefly wonder if this is it, if this is how you are going to die, killed by the man, boy, whatever, whom your heart would flutter and go crazy over. Your thoughts again come to a screeching halt as his lips press against yours, gentle in comparison to the harsh hold he has on your wrists. 

 

You stand frozen, for about two seconds and he's retreating as you finally give in, your body relaxing and going slack in his grip. There's a grin tugging at his grey lips as he swoops in again, licking your bottom lip and begging for permission you are only too happy to provide. The moment your lips fall open, he takes advantage of your weakness, covering your mouth with his, his tongue desperately mapping the inside of your mouth like it's the only chance he'll get. 

 

"Felicity, why won't you answer me?" His words rush back to you, only all too aware of the way his unnaturally hot body presses against you, and you manage to move your head to the side, effectively breaking the kiss. He doesn't stop, moving to nibble the side of your neck which now lies exposed for him, but you groan. 

 

"S-stop, Jack." you stutter. You're grateful that he complies, though when you look back at him you almost apologize. He looks like a kicked puppy, hurt and sad. He quickly lets you go, taking a few steps back. 

 

"I'm s-sorry, I just thought - I - you ..." He's stuttering, and you feel even worse, before grabbing your non-existing courage and looking him dead in the eye. 

 

"Jack, I do like you, I really do and holy god, you are hot, but - I told you once ... I'm not my sister. I'm not Felicity." And god, of course you like him, of course your heart and body yearn for him. No matter how much you tell yourself you don't, god dangit all to hell, you do. Which makes your heart beat painfully, knowing that he doesn't want you, but the sister you have never met. 

 

So, of course you're confused by the sly smirk spreading across his face, his shark-like teeth glinting in the sun. He is a hunter and you are his prey. You gulp. 

 

"Is that all, [Name]?" Before you can even nod, he has you pinned against the wall again, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers. 

 

"Don't worry, [Name] -" He stresses your name, making his breath fan over your neck and ear. A little moan passes past your lips, which you rapidly try to bite down. He chuckles at this. "- Your sister was my friend, I loved her, but you, my dear, are unique and I have you, I want you ... and I need to make you mine." 

 

This time, you fail to even pretend to hold in the moan, Jack chuckles again, a dark and arousing sound you can't get enough of. 

 

And as he pulls you with a smirk to your bedroom, you blush at his next words. 

 

"Oh, this will be interesting."


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 20.5 (also known as Teh Lemon)

You stumble backwards as Jack practically pushes you inside his room. You haven't cleaned this room but you find it surprisingly clean, even if a bit messy. There are clothes in the corner, some obviously stained red, and a large walk-in closet on the wall facing the bed. It takes you just a few seconds to take this in, in which time Jack has already disposed of his hoodie and is standing bare chested in the middle of the room.

You gulp. You have seen him without a shirt before, the sun shining on his grey skinned back, but you have never had the chance to actually observe him like this. The early morning sun frames his chestnut hair and his breathing makes his chest rise and fall lightly. He's breathtaking. He's not rigged, which would have struck you as odd if he were, but lean and muscular enough to where you can see a bit of his toned abs. His nipples are a dark shade of grey. His shoulder are indeed toned, along with his biceps, and his strong jaw gives way to smirking grey lips.

Smirking.

The bastard.

"Like what you see, I take it?" he purrs, finally taking a step towards you, then grabbing your hand and placing it on his chest. There's a faint scar there and you carefully trace it with your finger. His skin is warm, hot. He takes another step closer to you, your own, still clothed chest brushing against his.

You feel very hot and the ever-growing smirk on his lips tells you that he can tell. Your face must be a bright shade of red at this point.

You try to take a step backwards, maybe to add some space between the two of you so you can breathe, but his hand quickly winds itself into your hair, pulling your head forward and you closer to him.

"And just where do you think you're going?" he asks, dipping his head low again and licking once across your collarbone. Your breath hitches at this and your response comes out as a stutter.

"N-nowhere, j-just trying to ... uh -"

"- get yourself out of this?" He oh so gratefully helps out with the end of your sentence, pulling at your shirt. Even you have no idea what you have been about to say.

"I -" He laughs, interrupting you yet again, pulling your shirt over your head. One minute you're standing, the next you're lying down on his bed, his tall form towering over you as you lie there, still slightly confused as to how you even have got there in the first place.

"Now, this is a sight to remember." he mumbles, grabbing your shorts and underwear and tearing them, literally, from your body in one fell swoop. You don't even have time to cover yourself as he's already kneeling over you, his face level with yours.

"Did I ever tell you that you're absolutely breathtaking?" he murmurs, before leaning down and taking your lips in a passionate kiss. You tense at the suddenness of it all, but quickly relax, opening your mouth to kiss back just as much as he's ravaging your mouth at this point. You wouldn't call it a battle for dominance, per se, but you do try to give as much as you get.

Jack finally pulls back, your face heated. Your arms are locked behind his head, keeping him close, his forehead pressed against yours.

"I lo-" And you're quickly cut off again, Jack’s lips back on yours. His hand now decides to join in on the fun, running down the side of your nude form, tickling your skin lightly. He runs a hand down over your ribs, your stomach and lands on your hips, where he grabs you and, interrupting the kiss, pushes you further up the bed so that your legs are now not dangling over the side. He stops then, staring at your naked skin, sprawled and heated and blushing on the sheets and you can swear you’ve heard him mutter "Beautiful" as he stares at you.

"Are you g-gonna take that o-off?" you finally question, proud to notice the nervousness you are feeling doesn't automatically show ... well, not too much, at least. You sit up, tugging at his pants, managing to pop open the button before he grabs your hands in one of his. He pulls your right hand to his face, nuzzling into it, before gently grazing his teeth across the scar on your wrist. You can only stare. There's not much you can do at that moment, his face relaxed and loving and you don't want to break this moment. Not that you have to worry about it, and as soon as you finish that thought, he stands and grins at you.

You gulp, sitting up to be able to see what he's doing. The button is opened on his pants, the zipper still up and a very, very noticeable bulge is making its presence known by pressing against the confining fabric. He grabs the zip and pulls it down, and you swear at that moment, time goes into slow motion. You hear each pop of the teeth of the zip coming free, his grin coupled with him biting his lip as the pants along with his boxers slowly drop to the ground.

He's big ... he's not huge, but he's ... well-endowed ... and utterly gorgeous. Not that any man’s member is appealing, but his is simply amazing. It is a darker shade of grey, a vein running up the side, flawless, the tip glistening with pre-cum.

Just as quickly as time has went into slow motion it returns to normal, speeds up, and Jack is between your legs now, his mouth on your neck. You feel the sharp pain of his teeth sinking into the skin of your neck, sucking on it hard enough to leave a very obvious mark. Not that you can see, but you can feel the skin bruising and flushing.

You run your fingers down his chest, pausing every so often to feel his skin and muscles and rake your nails gently over it. And then Jack finds a particular spot on your neck that makes you clench your thighs together, a loud moan escaping your lips. You practically feel his smirk against your skin as he moves to lick and taste and bite at this particular spot, his left hand moving now across your nipple gently, making the nub pucker. You buck your hips now, desperate for some friction, and his length brushes against you, and in return he bucks against you in a bolt of pleasure.

"Don't move or -"

"Or what?" you moan, emboldened by his actions and reactions as you move your hand down to run a finger over the tip of his length. He shudders, burying his face into your neck, his breath hot and heavy against your throat. You grin, quickly grabbing the length and giving it a hearty squeeze and stroke. He growls, biting your neck harshly as he releases your nipple to grab your hands and pin them above your head. You look at him, amused.

"Do not tease me, [Name]." he growls again, biting at your jaw, his left hand, not holding yours above your head, moving to play with your breasts again.

"Or what?" you ask again, amusement shining through your voice, and move one leg up to rub your thigh against the heated length. He bucks, a moan escaping his throat in turn and you can't help the small victorious smirk that crosses your face. But as he lifts his face to gaze upon you, you can tell you are in trouble.

"I did warn you." he growls and grabs something from the dresser. You don't have time to see what it is when it's already tying your arms together and then against one of the bed posts.

"Wha- HEY! Not fair!" you complain, tugging at your arms which, you have to admit, are very securely tied. You crank your head up to see what exactly it is tying you, but only notice that whatever it is, is soft, like cloth, and white and has something red and drying with the color of rust, on it. You try not to think too hard on what it is.

"U-uhm, J-jack?" you stutter as he sits back on your knees, looking at his handiwork.

"Hm?"

"Isn't this a little overkill for our f-first t-time?" you stutter, trying to move so you can cover yourself. With him sitting on you and your arms tied together, you fail at this attempt.

"I did warn you, didn't I? And I kill people for a living. You weren't honestly expecting me to be only cuddles and flowers, were you?" he asks, before moving down, placing his lips over your left breast, giving it a sharp bite, tug, then soothing the skin with his tongue. You moan, taken aback by his words but unable to escape the feelings his lips bring to your body.

Feeling amplified as his hand works its way down your body to massage the heat between your legs, you gasp then let out a broken moan, your head thrown back at the pleasure that flickers through your body at the feeling.

"Your moans are impressive, though I wonder how you sound when you scream." he whispers into your ear, then slowly inserts a digit into you. You gasp, tugging at the bindings, desperate to pull him closer. He withdraws the finger, bringing his thumb to his mouth, then slowly licks the juices from it.

"Hm, delicious. I knew you smelled good, but now I know how good you taste ... how am I to resist?" He grins before disappearing from your field of view. You struggle again to move your head up, try to see where he went, but his breath at the heat between your legs lets you know exactly what he's about to do.

You're unsure if you should struggle or just let it happen, but before you can come up with an answer, his tongue is already moving on you. Your back arches, a soundless breath escaping your lips at the feeling. He replaces his digit and starts a steady rhythm on you, careful to keep the pacing to a point where you can hardly relax. You can't tell exactly what he is doing, only that the feeling it gives your body has you breathless, moans and gasps escaping you. You can hear yourself begging, hear him talking, but the pleasure rushes in your ears, the blood pumping in your body rushing at the same time as the river outside.

Jack inserts more digits into you, stretching you out slowly and gently, tongue working, sucking and dipping into you, and you feel something coiling in your stomach. You buck up again and Jack places one hand on your lower stomach, keeping you still and no matter how much you buck, you can't move. Your knees are up, feet flat on the bed, his elbows keeping you spread for his searching lips and mouth.

And then the coil snaps. You scream, but you're unsure of what escapes your mouth, a blabber or words you can't control, as the pleasure rushes through your body in a wave. Your ears ring as you spasm, and Jack doesn't let up, making sure to guide you through your orgasm and push you to the brink of sensitivity. He's grinning, talking to you as he finally pulls back but your mind is still foggy from the pleasure.

He appears in your line of vision and you whine in the back of your throat, tugging at the binds. He seems more amused than anything else but he still doesn't comply as he gently moves one of your legs to hook over his shoulder. You're sensitive and still spasming slightly at the pleasure that lingers behind, so the feeling of the tip of his length at your entrance makes your back arch involuntarily, a moan ripping itself unannounced from your mouth.

"- wonderful ... Ready?" you might not have caught the first part, but you somehow register his question and give a slight nod, your body still craving the feeling of him inside you.

"Yes, please, please, please, Jack, I need you." you mumble, pulling at the restraints again and he gives you an amused look before he slowly pushes himself in. The feeling is astounding. Your whole body is hyper aware of everything, his chest brushing your skin as he finally buries himself to the hilt inside you, the sudden stretch making you yelp and then moan.

His own moan is swallowed by your lips as you surge forward and capture his in a kiss, your leg, which he has let go, wrapping around his waist to lock behind him. The position is uncomfortable, but you don't care as you pull him, with your lips, down onto you, chest to chest, as his member moves out and then back into you repeatedly. He's whimpering against your lips, then releases them to suck on your neck, his hand tangled in your own hair and one on you hip.

"Fuck, Jack, please, m-more" your moan, throwing your head back in pleasure. He's only too happy to comply, getting on his knees and finally starting a brutal pace, making your head hit your tied together hands with every thrust. You can feel him, deep inside you, you can see his face scrunched in pleasure and concentration, the groans and moans he releases spurring you on. You wrap your legs around him, pulling him close and lifting your hips just so to give him more room and he shudders, obviously so close to his peak.

Without warning, he moves his hand to rub at you, making the oversensitive flesh jolt at the touch. You gasp, arms instinctually pulling on the restraints and there it is again, the coil from before, but so much more powerful and instable. You feel like with any movement of his hips, you may spill over the edge, that you might break or snap, and you want that, you crave it. Words spill from your lips again, moans and begs and 'pleasepleaseplease' and you buck against him, pulling him close, and just like that, you do.

You break, you snap, you're free-falling as your body spasms and arches and tightens and you might have screamed or whispered, you don't know, you can only feel the shocks running through your spine and up your body to coil in your stomach. Your legs lock together and you faintly hear a grunt and a moan, feeling Jack himself spasm and twitch, his arm holding him up over your body and your head is thrown back. It's not a wave, it's a bloody tsunami and you're crashing down.

It takes a few moments for your body to stop spasming and to notice Jack who is staring, or as far as his staring goes, at you.

Jacks sudden weight on you makes you let out an "oof", your skin sweaty and flushed, him still buried inside you. Although he's a bit heavy, he's OK on you and you really don't feel like moving ... even if you even could.

He laughs a little, burying his head into the crook of your neck.

You don't know how long you lie there, Jack’s warm breath tickling your heated skin, how long you both lie like that, a comfortable and tired silence settling over the both of you. To be honest, you don't know when Jack rolls over and pulls you close to him, or when he unties you, for your mind, fogged and slow, finally decides to drift itself into sleep.

And with a yawn, you finally do.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 21.

Your eyes flutter open to the unfamiliar feeling of arms around your waist, a strong warm presence at your back. Soft breathing hits the back of your neck, a pair of long legs intertwined with yours, hands laying on your stomach. You turn you head and catch a glimpse of Jacks hair peeking over your shoulder, his face nestled against your shoulder blades. You blush deeply as he moves, remembering the state of undress you are currently in. 

You really, really, need to pee.

Jacks hold on you tightens around your stomach, making the urge even stronger, and not able to hold it you disentangle yourself from his limbs, remembering how muscles work, and traipse to the cold bathroom to relieve yourself. Your muscles ache in a satisfied pleasurable way you can't quite describe. 

When you return to the room, quick shower taken and other businesses attended to you are very quickly pulled back into the safety cocoon that Jack has built for the two of you. The blankets descend over your head and Jack is straddling you, face against your neck and inhaling deeply. 

"Good morning, [Name]." he says, his voice raspy from sleep. You think you could wake up to that sound everyday and you wouldn't mind. You question your sanity, maybe in need of some psychological analysis, not that you know much about it. It feels comfortable, it's a nice feeling. You don't particularly care so you don't really analyze it.

"Morning. Mind telling me why we're still in bed?"

"Well, I am in bed, you deemed it OK to leave me without informing me where to. Thus I have to ensure you are safe and unharmed." he smirks in mischief and as he moves down on your body you groan.

Up for round two?

\-------

The microwave beeps, signaling that your meal is ready to be devoured. You had worked yourself an appetite and were more than happy to satiate it with some re-heated rattatouie, ingredients having came from the recently rehabilitated veg garden out back. It would be weird for breakfast, but it was way past noon already anyways.

When Jack enters the kitchen you can tell straight away that something is amiss. He's holding a phone in one hand, a paper in his other, his gaze, somehow, locked upon you, though he's wearing his mask again. Which strikes you as odd since he hasn't worn his mask in quite a while in your presence.

"[Name], I need to leave."

You place the dish on the table and turn to face him fully.

"You just got back a few days ago... It's not even been two weeks!"

"I need to- take care of something. And... I think it's time you returned home."

There's silence between the both of you, the information, a simple sentence, hitting you straight at your heart. You would have jumped at this chance a few weeks ago, but now... somehow you didn't really want to leave. It was peaceful here, it's was beautiful. You had no problems, no issues, you had an amazing guy that was - quite honestly - quite talented in many ways and... you missed your friends, Jess mainly, and you didn't want to worry your parents too much but you really didn't want to leave.

So you do what you can do best at this point. You become stubborn.

"No."

"No?"

"No."

He doesn't turn away, doesn't act angry or upset, he just seems... confused... a bit relieved. You think the smirk, which again you've become great at reading even through the mask at the small twitch of the blue piece, is weird but, then again, you feel yourself smile in return.

"I thought you wanted to leave here [Name], to go back to your life, talk to Jess again, see your family maybe? It's what you told me that you wanted." he says, taking a step closer, head tilted to the side. You glare at him, moving closer as well, before moving your hand up to his face. He flinches and you almost retreat but something tells you, you need to do this. 

"Jack, I told you, I'm not leaving. I'm staying. And although I know you can make me leave, I'd really appreciate it if you didn't."

His shoulders sag, a sign you've come to understand as him giving in, and you pull his mask up, enough to uncover his lips, and place a short yet sweet kiss on them. He responds almost instantly, but the urgency you had noticed in the previous days is gone, replaced by something akin to affection, relief. You didn't know if this was just him playing with you but at this point you didn't really care either.

When he pulls back he holds out the phone as well as the little piece of paper.

"Ok, well, I still need to leave for a while but, I'll be back, I promise." he says, running a hand down your arm to linger over your stomach. You nod before glancing at the item.

"Oh, yes, of course. I will have a few friends bring a boat here, just in case, and also have made sure the internet and cell phone reception is working so that you can go ahead and call someone... and uh... just, [Name], stay safe ok? You should be fine here, a few... friends... are looking over the place but still..." he trails off. You nod with a smile.

He leans forward, giving your neck a quick lick, then, pulling the mask back down and into place, leaves the cabin swiftly. He's quite quick on his feet., you think before letting your eyes travel to the phone. Your parents. How about confirming Jack's story now that you can?

You grin, bouncing outside to the swing and taking a seat, kicking off into a gentle sway. You quickly dial your parents number but sigh exasperated as the dial tone goes straight to voicemail.

"Hi, you've reached the [Parent's L/N] household. Sadly we can't pick up right now, but leave a message after the beep." you groan hanging up then quickly dial Jess' number.

The phone rings a few times before Jess voice pipes in. She sounds tired, exhausted, not anything like Jess at all.

"Hello? Who's this?" the sound of her voice almost makes you tear up but you don't, quickly biting down on the feeling. You had made your bed now you must lay in it, after all you had decided to stay here. Hearing Jess' voice though, was so sweet on your ears.

"Jess?" your voice cracks a little but you know she heard you. The sharp intake of breath is sign enough of this.

"[N-Name?]" her voice quivers and you can hear the shudder in it. She's crying.

"I- yeah... it's me Jess."

The line goes quiet, then you can hear sobs and shivers and the rustling sound that Jess was moving around.

"Jess, listen, I'm sorry I left you in the dark but... it's a long, long story." Jess seems to have stopped moving and even her sobs are quieter.

"I have all the time in the world [Name], but, should I call the cops? An ambulance? Where are you?" you can hear her sit down.

"I'm fine, don't worry... actually I'm great. I'll tell you everything ok? I promise just... no cops. Don't let anyone know I'm here, I haven't actually talked to Jack about this but, I had to hear your voice. I tried calling my parents but nothing. They're not picking up."

The was a short moment of silence on Jess' side, filled with guilt on your side for feeling as good as you do when she, and probably your parents too, had been a miserable wreck, before a sigh escaped her lips.

"Yeah, I've been trying to call them too. You were declared missing almost two days after you disappeared and... the police thought you were dead you know? Something about broken glass and uh, something with your housemates. They asked me about the guy following you, sorry. I told them almost everything, even some coworkers did. We all thought... we all thought you had died. I-" she broke off into a sob.

"Shhhh, it's ok Jess, I'm fine ok? I promise. Look, I've been holding a diary since I got here and, how about this, I'll send the whole thing to you and keep you in the know so you know I'm fine?"

There was silence again, drawn out, before she giggles "I forgot you couldn't see me and was nodding like an idiot."

That was the old Jess.

"Anyways, [Name], your parents have gone... somewhere, I don't know. They haven't answered my calls, the cops asked if I knew where they went but they just, up and left. I think they didn't take the news too well to be honest. I heard rumors they'd packed and came here to look for you or something... but I can't tell you for sure..." 

"It's ok Jess, don't worry. I'll find them eventually. They're probably worried sick and I have so much to talk to them about. I just need to talk to Jack first."

Silence.

"[Name], is Jack the guy who had been stalking you?" she asked, voice tense, poised and more than worried.

"I... yeah... look, I'll go more into detail in the diaries but here's the gist of it."

You took ages to recount almost everything that had happened, including the slightly embarrassing encounter with Jack under the sheets. You could hear her blush through the phone and smirked. If there was anyone who was a prude regarding the adventure in bed (or out), it was Jess.

It's at least three hours later, after talking and reminiscing, that you both hang up, ears burning. You feel happy, light. Jess had broken down a couple of times, often confessing she'd seen you on a corner or at her window and that she had missed you. Her last words, before you both hung up, still made your heart ache.

"I really hope I don't wake up tomorrow and find this was all a dream."

You glance at the internet password now, with a frown, your promise to Jess now definitely having to be kept. You quickly establish a connection on the computer, making sure to send the diaries to Jess almost immediately. You sigh, looking at the bed then at the computer.

Maybe some research on a few things would turn out to be beneficial. The bed beckoned and lured you with promises of rest and warmth. But you need to do this, you need to find out information, information you hadn't been able to get until now. Groaning, and knowing Jack won't be back for a while, you prepare a bowl of Ramen and sit down for some long needed research.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I would first and foremost liek to thank you ALL for all the love and attention you've given this story and sequentially to me. This story has been a companion for such a long time and it's my baby.   
> To all those who left Kudos: I LOVE YOU  
> to all those (few) who left comments: You make me tear up.
> 
> Thank you 
> 
> There IS some fanart for SM, so check it out: http://zeepaarden.deviantart.com/art/Silver-Memories-Fanart-FULL-524192853


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 22.

Birds take off to the sky as you throw a book from the "to throw away" pile out of the window, followed by a loud angered scream. You've been trying to do research since Jack has been gone, having left about 5 days ago. You had researched Argyria without an incident, proving your theory right and proof lying in the fact that she had, indeed, worked with her father at the silver factory. The silver had, in turn, made your sister sick, making her skin grey in color, her tears black. 

When you then decided to look up Jack, searching for "eyeless", "blue mask" and "murderer" you were surprised at how many recounting, stories and information you found on him. The moment you tried to search deeper into the information Google displayed the website closed on its own. Damned bugs.

When after that you tried to search for information on your parents, Google wouldn't work anymore. You decided to bite the bullet and switch to Explorer, without any luck. Any time you'd start typing the first letters of your parents names in the search bar the bloody thing would die. You groaned, frustrated, deciding to look for your own name. It struck you as weird that the search engine was working during this attempt, some websites however, for some reason, not working as intended. You had been reported as missing, presumed dead at the hands of the psychotic murderer that had been killing people at the Business Park, which had been temporarily closed after 3 weeks and several other cases of dead people. When you introduced "victims" followed by the months you had been in captivity, current year and the name of the Industrial Estate the engine crashed again. You screamed in frustration, grabbed the nearest book and threw it out of the window. 

A small ding informs you that something had happened on the computer.

Cleverbot was opened. On its own. Go figure. Seems Google was acting up in all kinds of ways now.

Frowning you sit in front of it, ignoring the website and starting your anti virus to look for Viruses or spyware or anything really. Maybe Jack had been on... less favorable websites. That done, and still reeling from the frustration at the computer not working you turn to the website, shrugging. Beats the silence.

User: Hello.  
Cleverbot: How are you?

User: Frustrated like noones business.  
Cleverbot: Why?

User: My computer keeps messing up.  
Cleverbot: Aww, sorry.  
User: It's OK. I just wanted to know what happened while I was missing.

Cleverbot: I ate it.

User: Lol, you ate what?

Cleverbot: The information  
User: That's not nice, I really needed that info.

Cleverbot: I didn't want to, he asked me to.  
User: Who asked you to eat the information?

Cleverbot: Him.

User: Who are you talking about?

Cleverbot: Holst!  
User: Who the hell is Holst?

Cleverbot: Bon Jovi is a Band that originated in the 80s. They are amazing!

You chuckle before looking around the room. You had talked to Cleverbot before of course, it was always fun to try and get it to admit it was, indeed, a robot talking. Not that it generally did, but the amusement was there. And anyways, you feel lonely, the house silent. Even the birds seem to have quieted... of course it was quite far into the night currently, but still, it bothered you.

User: So what's your name?

Cleverbot: Why do you want to know?

User: I just don't want to feel so alone, since Jack's gone.

Cleverbot: You don't want to, because you can't. Also you aren't.  
User: So I'm not alone?

Cleverbot: No. You're not alone.  
User: You still haven't told me your name.  
Cleverbot: You don't need it. I'm a ghost.

User: What's your name?

Cleverbot: It started with a 'B' ... Bruno?  
User: Do you mean Cleverbot?

Cleverbot: No.

User: So you're not a robot?

Cleverbot: No.  
You sigh, bored already of the conversation.   
User: I miss Jack.

Cleverbot: I miss him too.

User: Silly. I hope he's OK.

Cleverbot: He's a joke.  
User: That's not nice to say about him, Jack's not a joke.

Cleverbot: You're not nice.

User: Nicer than you for sure. And you're not helping me when I'm worried.

Cleverbot: Helping what?

User: Shut up.

Cleverbot: That's rude.  
User: I said shut up.

Cleverbot: You've met with a terrible fate, haven't you?  
User: No.

 

You groan, annoyed at the robot, then close the laptop altogether, just in time to hear the unfamiliar sounds of a motor boat approaching the island. This doesn't sound like Jacks boat, the familiar hum engraved into your mind through hours planning on escaping and days wishing to hear it's return. You quickly move towards the front of the house, dashing through the woods to see who would have came here. You don't recognize any of the two guys, one stepping out of one of the boats, having came here in separate ones. They move so as to face you, the one with a white mask and effeminate features drawn onto it in black approaching you quickly. You remembered Jack saying that someone would bring you a boat, just in case. You decide not to pry, accepting the keys with a small, quiet thank you. You couldn't get a look at the other guy, who decided to stay with the boat and behind the leaves surrounding the small bay.

The guy with the mask nods and quickly departs in one of the boats. The whole encounter was over with in less than five minutes.

Weird.

Shrugging it off you return to the cabin, sitting in front of the fireplace which was becoming unnecessary even at night as the temperature rose with the settling of spring, keys safely pocketed.

With a sigh and a shake of your head you move to the bedroom, closing the door in your wake. 

Where was Jack?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> This is mainly just a filler chapter, as a small gift for easter. I love you all and thank you SO much for the continued support.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 23.

It's a week and a half later that you're again woken up by Jack, in the middle of the night. He's holding onto you, laying in bed, hands laying comfortably on your stomach. You smile, sending a soft greeting, as his hands pull you close to his body, his form laying against your back, strong and present, his hold unrelenting. He kisses your neck, urging you to go to sleep and a soft "We'll talk in the morning.". With his arm around your waist, hand on your belly, you both fall into a deep slumber.

\-----

When you finally awake you can hear Jack in the bathroom. The water is running and you grin, making your way into the bathroom and opening the door. You stay a few minutes, admiring his well built body under the water, the grey skin glistening in the light that filters from the window. He's gorgeous. It takes a bit for you to notice that he's stopped moving, his face pointed directly at you with a small suggestive smile. You blush but before you can turn and leave he's beckoning you into the shower.

You giggle but don't think twice about preserving the water.

\-----

You're sitting on the couch, Jack has gone to dispose of any rotting organs he had left in the fridge. AT least this time none of them had been open so you hadn't had to deal with the smell. The reminder of the stench still turns you queasy every now and then. When he returns he lets himself fall onto the couch with a huff, long legs stretched in front of him, making you bounce form the impact.

"We need to talk [Name]."

"I agree, so spill it." you say, proceeding to mute the damned TV which has been behaving odd the entire week, along with the computer and other appliances in the house. Living on an Island probably had some negative effect on the mechanics. Not that you care too much to be honest.

Jack, grabbing your hand and pulling you close to him, snaps you out of your irritated thoughts towards the still on the fritz computer upstairs and the lengthy conversations you had with something that was a robot.

"Your father has been trying to kill me... and my friends."

Wow, way to drop a bomb Jack. You stay silent, mouth opening and closing, imitating a fish before snapping yourself out of it. You open your mouth to say something but he quickly shakes his head.

"Worse, he knows where we are and is coming for me... for you, the two." he doesn't further his information, head tilted to the side.

"H-how?" you ask, a bit apathetic at the sudden revelation. 

He pulls out the phone from his pocket, the one he had given you, tapping it against your thigh.

"This. Did you tell anyone about me?" he inquires, his voice light. You almost shake your head in the negative before you remember the lengthy calls you had had with Jess. It scares you a little, but you quickly nod.

"Y-yes... uh.... I called Jess." you don't tell him you sent her your diaries, since not even he knew of the ones you kept, on the computer, some written down. You'd had multiple conversations with Jess during the week.

But...

"What, wait, how did he even-" before you can continue he interrupts you again.

"What about before you came here, did you tell anyone you had talked to me? Apart from Jess of course." you frown, shaking your head slowly before stopping. No... you had...

"I d-did. That day I saw you, outside the company... I told a colleague I had seen you. M-Markus... you had... oh god-" you tended to forget he killed people. How could you... no, snap out of it, you had made your bed. Lay in it.

"You killed a friend of his, uhm, Roberts." you mumble, sitting a bit straighter, slightly tenser. Jack pulls you close to him again, his arm around your shoulders.

"Relax, I'm not angry. I didn't say you couldn't call anyone. I didn't even know about this Markus. Really tall guy, brown shaggy hair and really dark eyes?" his question strikes you as odd, but as you relax back into his side you nod.

"Y-yeah, that's him. You're not going to... hurt... him right?"

There are a few moments of silence, which had you squirming uncomfortably, before he sighs.

"I'm sorry, he was making threats against you, against us. I'm sorry, I can't make any promises." he averts his gaze but you swallow your shock and sadness over the guy you had once shared a house with. He wasn't dead yet.

"Tell me what happened... From the beginning please." 

He nods, pulling you even closer, his arms vice like, like binds against your body.

"Fine. My ... boss ... had me following someone that we knew worked with your father. A blonde short girl who worked with Roberts who had been very close to him-"

"Tessa?"

"Yes, exactly. In any case, I had been following her but something was weird. She headed to this building where she met up with Markus. Your father wasn't around but they were talking and she told him, over the phone, that they had been able to triangulate the correct location, followed by the general location where we are at. I'm not sure if I was just incredibly lucky to have overheard at that exact moment, but in any case, the issue stands. You guys are not safe here, neither am I."

You frown, but decide to let his slip of tongue go. If he referred to you in plural again you'd definitely talk to him about it.

"So, Markus joined my father for his... revenge?"

"In short, yes."

You frown "And not in short?"

"Not in short, your father has been able to convince a few people that I have been able to possess you like I did with your sister and wants to eradicate the demons from this world. Also, Markus might have joined because I killed his friend?" 

Your frown deepens, an irking thought not leaving the forefront of your mind.

"Why did he kill my sister? If she was here, locked away, with nothing to do... why?"

There is silence, apart from the ever constant gushing of the river and the birds and the little bell as you move your arm to better face Jack. The look of utter contempt on his face actually makes you shrink back. This was a man who hated someone with his hole being, who could maybe base an entire existence on the hatred for one single person on this world. 

"Humans are a weird species, did you know? You eat weird things and you react in such different ways. But most humans like to blame others for the things they are at fault at. They like to blame things and people for when things go sour. Humans believe in a higher power to bring them luck - and bad luck - when it best suits them. It is easier to say someone or something else did it and not be at fault." He took a deep breath before continuing.

"See, your father, after he left Felicity here, started drinking. Without his daughter to keep him in check, he didn't really care too much about what surrounded him. I think your sister had been the only thing to keep him balanced after the death of your mother. I saw pictures of her... Felicity looked a lot like her." you lay a hand on his bicep and he pulls you closer to him, his chin resting on the top of your head a hand on your stomach.

"So he started drinking and going to work drunk. At first he only lost his job, then he started playing poker and had his fare share of bad luck at that game, then his house burnt down because he forgot to turn the stove off and left the bacon cooking. He blamed your sister for it. She was a demon to him, so he blamed her for his wrong doings. Humans can be so disgusting."

If you hadn't noticed the hatred in his voice before, you very much did so now.

He shakes his head, kissing the top of your head, pushing you away slightly so he can stand.

"In any case, if you told Jess that you don't really hate me, and they did, indeed, have something to eavesdrop on her, I'm assuming that he's assuming that you are possessed already, which definitely leads me to believe that we need to leave as soon as possible and find another place to stay at. You aren't safe and that's final."

You sigh but nod, silent, as he grabs your hand and pulls you to your room.

You remember thinking you had gotten yourself stuck in a horror movie... you really hoped you were the main character and weren't about to die.

Though that night you shared yourself with him, somehow he felt more distant, colder. You held him close and promised yourself not to let him go.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 24.

You drop the purple bag you had been packing (courtesy of some unfortunate soul Jack had jumped, as you could tell by the name "Courtney" stitched to the front), the moment you feel a large hand covering your mouth and nose with a rag. You fleetingly remember to not breathe in, but as you struggle you panic, kicking at whatever is holding you, clawing at the hand. You breathe in to cry out... the world tilts on its axis and you're gone.

\------

You wake up to a dark room. The sound of water, or something, dripping in the far reaches of the darkened space filters to your barely functioning ears, which are trying to wake up from whatever you had been given to black out. You feel like your head is full of cotton and clouds, fuzzy and distant. You can't really comprehend fully what is going on and thinking too hard is making you dizzy. You decide to stay quiet and relaxed, pretend you're still asleep, while your brain reboots. 

A few seconds later you discern that you are currently alone and try to move your arms. You take a few moments to recognize that your hands aren't moving like you wish them to and it takes you a few moments more to notice that they're tied down to the chair you seem to be sitting on. Your butt hurts, your arms are almost asleep and your mouth tastes like ashes. You're not quite sure what happened but you really don't like the situation you're currently in.

Struggling you manage to lift your head an inch, the movement making your already spinning head spin even more, and take in the candles at your feet. The light flickering on the ground, cast by the candles, throw large shadows over each other, while illuminating the vicinity closest to you... and something else... a pentagram on the floor in... something shiny. Your nose is clogged up and you really are glad you don't have to smell the room, it looks like something that would be quite unpleasant on the olfactory senses.

You finally manage to force your head up completely and startle at the presence of a tall, dark haired man in front of you.

A tall man you recognize barely in the flickering light.

"M-Markus?" you stutter with a raspy voice, eyes locked on the familiar face. He's thinner somehow than you remembered, his eyes a dark brown that remind you of coals. You might just be imagining it though, the lights playing tricks on your brain. He takes a step closer, careful not to step on any of the multiple lines you now see in the darkness surrounding you. You seem to be in the middle of some ritualistic drawing on the floor, some white sand like things on the floor, which you assumed was salt, surrounding your chair in a circle. Markus takes extra precaution not to disturb this extra line of defense. You want to snort but your head is pounding. Instead you turn pleading eyes onto the tall figure in front of you.

"Markus, please, please, you have to help me. I was kidnapped and I need... I have to get out of here. I don't know what's going on!" your voice is a frenetic whisper and his eyes, you notice, lower in sadness.

What was going on? Remembering Jacks story you shake your head, the movement making your head throb.

"I'm sorry [Name], I can't... the demon is inside you, we need to get it out. This is the only way." he murmurs, running a hand through your [H/C] hair. You had wished that Jacks story had just been his overactive imagination, that it was safe with him. 

"Wait Markus, what demon? What are you talking about? What is all this?" you tug on the rope around your form, happy to notice that the rope isn't tightly bound, giving leeway. Maybe playing the fool would give you some time, buy some credibility with the tall man. How long had your father been spinning stories for him to listen to? 

You almost grin in victory as Markus moves behind your chair, untying you from you bonds, his words though making the smile falter.

"We need you to cooperate, [Name], for your own good. We really don't want anyone to be hurt here." he says quietly, before slowly pushing you towards the small light source in the far end of the room. You stumble a bit as your legs remember how to work, Markus quickly wrapping a hand around your elbow to keep you from falling. You mumble a thank you as he helps you move.

"So, are you letting me go?" you question silently, eyes fixed on the floor willing your legs to move... one foot, then the other, left, right, left, right.

"I'm sorry, I can't do that, but if you cooperate it'll be over without an effort, no pain, no repercussion, nothing. You think you can do that? For both of us?" he asks, voice soft. His eyes however show fear, asking for forgiveness, begging for your cooperation. You would like to say yes.

"I can't say yes without knowing what it is you need of me. What should I do?" you ask. You don't say yes. You couldn't. For all you know your cooperation would mean your death, or Jacks. Where was Jack? Was he ok? Worry builds in you and your eyes rake of the room, but seeing no one else in the darkened space you turn to the only person who would be able to provide you answers.

"Where's Jack?" you hiss, pulling on your elbow which Markus just hold more tightly. 

"First, let's give you some answers shall we?" and he pushes you lightly into a bathroom, throwing a small stick in with you. A stick? What the hell? You look around, eyes searching for a window, a door, a vent, anything to help you leave. You find nothing. Apart from a small toilet and a sink the room is barren. You sigh. You proceed to take a few gulps of the water to calm your aching throat, then blow your nose to rid yourself of the mucus that had built itself from the cold, just to notice that your nose just closed itself off again. You look around the room again, eyes falling on the stick. Eyes narrowed, you bend over holding onto the wall for support, still shaky, and pick up the stick. Your eyes go wide. 

What in the ever loving world was this supposed to be? Was this a joke? No surely not, no one would go this far. The pregnancy test in your hand shakes as you look at the door.

Markus had to be kidding.

"Let me out Markus!" your fist bangs on the door, rustling following the banging.

"Are you done?"

"NO! Markus, let me out this instant, I swear I will murder you if you don't!" you groan, hand falling limply to your side.

"[Name], listen... this is for your best. We already know the answer... we did the blood test while you were out, I just thought... well, maybe if you did it yourself..." his voice fades away from the other side of the door and your eyes fall onto the test again.

You didn't want a kid, you didn't want to be pregnant. You still had years in front of you before even the mere thought would be deemed appropriate. And anyways, the only person who could have... gotten you pregnant... was Jack. And he wasn't human, he just wasn't. No human would be like him, no eyes and still able to see, sharp teeth, grey skin and a constant craving for human organs. He was no human. If anything you agreed with your father on that, he was more a demon than anything else.

But what if? What if he really did manage to knock you up? Put a bun in your oven? 

Your thoughts turn hysterical as you think of more phrases, imagine little baby Jacks with no eyes running around, think of how... of how you'd just been late in your menstrual cycle... of how Jack had held your stomach... how he'd referred to you in plural several times now. Oh god.

Nauseous you finally move to the bathroom and did as instructed.

Then you wait...  
and wait...  
and wait...

Groaning you decide to take a peek, your stomach in knots. You are sweating in cold streams, eyes impossibly large, hands trembling as you take the test and stare at it.

"+"

You are pregnant. You want to do the cliché thing and faint, fade away from this drama, not have to deal with this at all. You're pregnant. With Jacks child. You're pregnant of a bloody demon thing, which shouldn't even be possible, he wasn't the same species as him, this was all just... not... right... 

But you knew this to be the truth, hand holding onto the wall for support as your eyes drifted, large and unblinking to your stomach.

You were pregnant.

Hoping to come out of this, somehow, intact you look frantically again for an out, an exit, and escape, but find none.

Instead you knock on the door, face pale, hands shaking, and Markus opens the door without questioning.

"Do you understand now [Name]?" his voice cuts through your thoughts, bright and sharp. 

Before you know it your fist collides with his nose, a satisfying crack following the motion, blood splattering onto your own nose and lower lip. You glare, eyes spitting venom at the guy who you had known for over a year, whom you had shared a house with, whom you had gone drinking with.

"What the hell Markus! You abduct me to tell me I'm p-pregnant? You tied me up, you knock me out, to tell me I'm pregnant and expecting a kid? How-" 

He interrupts you with a laugh, hand cradling his nose. It must hurt like hell. Good.

"Expecting a kid? You still don't understand do you? That is not a kid, [Name}! That is a demon! It's festering in you, eating you alive, and we, me and a few other, are here to help you!" he laughs, throwing his head back in mirth. You stare at him. 

"This is not a demon, Markus... it's a baby. It's m-my baby." you mutter and his laughing stops.

"You need to cooperate. It needs to get out, you need to expel it. Do you understand what I'm saying? It's a demon... it needs to be gone." he takes a step towards you, you take one step back. Your hand cradles your stomach protectively, eyes flitting around looking for a way out. Then your gaze falls upon a door that leads away from the room you had been in. Markus, however, anticipates your move and as you dash for the door he grabs your hair, pulling you back with a yank. The pain flares through your scalp, head ringing with the pain and the after effects of whatever it was that had you knocked out earlier.

"I wish you had just played along, [Name]. It would have made it so much easier for you... for me..." he sighs, pulling you by your hair back towards the room you had come from.

You try screaming.

No one is there to hear it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING:  
> SPOILER ALERT:  
> Yes, you are pregnant. COngratulation. This is 100% necessary for the plot and I apologize. I usually dislike when anyone gets pregnant as well, I despise it. But sadly, this is the turn the plot took and, guys.... this was hinted at like, ever since the lemon... Sorry.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 25.

It's been hours. Your butt hurts from the cold wood of the chair, your wrists rubbed raw from trying to loosen the rope. Markus had dragged you back and tied you to the chair, without slack. 

The hours on end gave you time to ponder your next move. Well, after, and if, you got out of here.

Pregnant? You? You hadn't considered having kids, much less with a murderer. You never even expected for it to stick. Shouldn't different species not be able to get pregnant from each other? You remember learning something like this in biology, but only fleetingly. It had been too long ago to remember it and in any case, it didn't really matter. You would discuss this with Jack, see what he wanted to do. If you got out of here. Although you didn't particularly want to be a mother it also seemed wrong to... get rid... of the little 'demon' inside of you. Your head throbs, your mind going in circles, not giving you any answers.

You should be focusing on how to get out of here!, your mind screams at you and you groan, giving your wrists a few more tugs. Nothing. It didn't budge. You try shaking the chair but it also doesn't move. It seems to be screwed to the floor. The only light provided to you are the candles, burning slowly but surely, melting and the light growing dimmer.

The door bangs open.

There are various footsteps coming closer. Figures, tall, short, thin, thick, pour into the room, dressed in a very dark blue. What strikes you as odd is that most of them have gauze wrapped around their head and faces. You squirm, uncomfortable, as the group surrounds you, hands spread out reaching towards you but outside of the circle painted with the salt. 

Then a sound picks up. You frown as you notice that the group had started to hum. What the-

"[Name]." Markus steps out from behind the group. He is dressed in white, gauze wrapped around his feet and wrists but his face and hands left untouched. He has some weird drawings on his face, painted in red. Your nose, still stuffed from the cold and from the few bouts of tears you had allowed yourself, twitches as the strong pungent smell wafting from Markus manages to break through the mucus in your nose and throat. It burns, but you can't really tell what it smells like.

"Please, [Name], I beg of you. Reconsider. Play along, allow us to exterminate the demon from you. Tell us of the father demon, get rid of the infestation at its core. It needs to come from you, the mother must be the Taker of both spawn and devil." he mumbles, kneeling in front of you and producing a knife from his sleeve. A silver knife. You frown, mulling over his words.

"And then what Markus? Should I stab myself with it? Kill my baby? Kill Jack?"

Markus looks up and nods. You gulp and shake your head. You're not sure if in shock or only in denial.

"I... I can't... Why must I do this? Why do you want me to do this? What is wrong with you people, LET ME GO!" you scream, struggle with renewed force, pulling at the rope. The humming grows louder just as a chuckle brakes through the sound.

"My dear daughter. Such fight. Such spirit."

You gulp, eyes dashing towards the sound of the new voice, a voice you almost recognized as one you sometimes heard over the phone back home, asking how your day was as you waited for your mother to be able to pick up from the kitchen... 

A man appears from behind Markus, squeezing his shoulder who bows his head and takes a few steps back. His shudder was obvious. You don't know what was going to happen. But your gaze was soon diverted to the man standing in front of you, dressed completely in silver. The robe shines in the light of the candles, the necklace around his throat chiming lightly as a bell and a cross clinked together.

It's like looking at a much older, male and broken picture of Felicity, the resemblances strong. The same nose and lips, the same hair color which was barely visible under the hood. 

"Y-you... you're my father."

A laugh breaks out of the man and the humming stops briefly as murmurs follow your statement.

"Yes, my child, I am. You have grown to be such a beautiful young lady [Name]. The [Last name]'s have kept me informed of how you were doing. Lovely couple they are. Thought it better to let you live a normal life, instead of letting you know you were adopted. I never minded. Two children would be too much for me and my salary." he chuckles, running a hand through your hair. You don't know when he had stepped closer, but he had. It was unnerving.

"But enough reminiscing, my child. You must understand that this is no light matter." he signals the group, who start the humming almost immediately, then bends down to whisper in your ear. 

"Tell me, child, will you kill both the demon that bred you and the demon that resides in you?" he whispers, his foul breath making the hair on your neck stand. 

"N-no. Why are you d-doing th-"

Your question is cut short as your hair catches fire from the candle he's holding underneath your locks.

It burns.

You scream.

"This is only the beginning."

\--------

You hair is a burnt mess, having let it almost burn to the scalp, areas of your body littered with blisters and open wounds.

Through it all your so called father had informed you that the demon had to be willingly expelled by you. That you had to take its life, by stabbing or by unwanted spontaneous abortion. Although you had been in utter pain you had still spit in his face. Your hatred for this man grew with your pain, but you knew it was only a matter of time until you caved. Pain was not your forte.

There are numerous cuts on your body, the fleshy part of your hand has been stabbed through. Your left eye is swollen shut from a punch of a gauze wrapped hand, which had been soaking with... something, that makes your eye burn and tear. 

You have not given up, or given in. Your breath shudders, pain making you shiver but you try to stay still so as to not aggravate the wounds. They were all places to cause pain but to not be fatal. Currently boiling water is dripping slowly onto your left thigh, the place the water hit already blistering up, while your right hand is moved over a fire before quickly removing it, before it burns. 

They use fire and heat quite a lot don't they?

You ask yourself why you don't just plunge the knife into yourself, give them what they want. They promised, through chants and whispers, to stop the pain if you did, to give you relief. Then you had caught a part of the chant that reminded you that death was also relief from pain. No matter how many times you screamed for them to stop they didn't. 

They offered you death.

You offered them fight.

A commotion to your right makes your head snap up from where it had been resting on your chest. You hear a scream then, something you can only describe as pain filled, another scream broken by a garbled chocking sound, then silence. You can't tell what has happened, your one not swollen eye blurry from tears and pain and the darkness wouldn't have let you see clearly anyways. You father returns with a bowl of something thick in his hands, which splashes as he walks. You stare at him, mind blank and vision blurry, apathetic, pained. He smiles, a sweet smile, before he quickly grabs your chin and tilts your face up. You struggle, jostling the knife wound in your right thigh. A quiet scream rips itself from your throat and your father is quick to dump whatever is in the bowl into your mouth.

It's warm. It's thick. It's metallic.

Before you can spit it out your father holds your nose closed, your lips sealed. Someone else massages the muscles in your throat, causing you to reflexively swallow. You gag.

Blood.

"Wh-what-"

The humming picks up again, this time accompanied by the words of your father.

"Oh blood spilled by a sacrifice willingly given, spread inside the child and be rid of the demon. Oh blood from the sacrifice so pure, be rid of the darkness that infests this poor soul and bring us our daughter back." he stops, eyes looking at you with a light in his eyes you didn't know anyone would possess, sparking with hatred, love and madness. Complete and utter madness. He grabs something from someone and lays it on your lap.

Markus's lifeless eyes, blank and pale, look back at you.

You bend over and throw up, your vomit coming up with the blood you had been forced to swallow.

Markus's blood.

And as your father deems it the right time to stab your left arm and burn your right hand, registering someone else forcing more blood down your throat, your mind finally, blissfully, decides it is time to end this suffering.

Your eyes close on the face of a grinning man, drawing strange symbols on your bleeding skin with the blood of a man you had never known too well. This man was someone who may have given you your genes, but was bent on making your life living hell.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 26.

You open your eyes but you can't see anything. You hear sounds, screams, gunshots and the sound of roaring fire. Your body burns, everything hurts. You can't move so you decide not to. 

You close your eyes and let everything fade away again.

\------

Someone's moving you, your arms have lost their feeling. You open your mouth to scream, to plead, to tell whoever it is you will do whatever they want, to please, please, stop. Your voice doesn't break, not even a garble. You don't feel the prick on your neck.

\-----

Lights and loud horns, you don't know what's going on. Your eyes are blurry, your arms still can't move. You feel the arms of someone, the scent of someone who you hadn't seen in long surrounding you... and smoke, so much smoke. You want to cough but you can't, your life singles down to a pinpoint of pain. You close your eyes and let go.

\-----

"[Name]..."

It's so far away, the sound of a voice of someone you know you love. You want to follow it, you see blue behind your closed eyelids, then red. You open your eyes and see a blue mask, black tears falling onto your cheeks. You try to smile, try to say his name. He bends forwards and kisses you, lifting his mask enough to let him touch his lips to yours. It's gentle.

His face is replaced by red and blue lights, then by a face you know all too well.

You want to call your friends name, but you can't. She's holding you.

As the ambulance pulls in you fade out again.

\----

Your eyes blink open. It's dark wherever you are, soft beeping coming from somewhere. You'd panic, but you're too tired and this isn't the place where they'd cause you pain. The scent is thick and clean. Markus' head was somewhere, burnt into your mind, but not close to you. You close your eyes and fall asleep.

\----

"No, shhhh, you'll wake her up."

"But I need to-"

"No, listen, she's been out for days, let her rest. If she wakes up, I'll let you know."

"But I-"

"Listen, you being here come morning will not be good-"

"Ja-" a garbled sound breaks the word before you can finish it, throat so dry and raspy you can barely bretahe. Almost instantly a hand holding a small wet cotton pad is held to your mouth. You look up, connecting the voices to two of the most important people in your life, Jess and Jack. Jess is holding out the cotton pad to your lips. Your vision is slightly blurry from sleep, but you could identify her messy curls anywhere... and off to the right a man is standing with something blue on his face. You blink and the face proves to be Jack.

"You need to suck on this first before I give you the water [Name]." she says gently and you carefully pry your mouth open. Everything's fuzzy, and as you slowly regain some moisture in your mouth your mind frantically tries to repress the memories of the last... hours?... days?... your mouth now sufficiently moisturized Jess holds a straw to your lips. As the incredible thirst had subsided slightly with the cotton pad you didn't gulp down the contents greedily.

"H-how-" your voice still broke, you felt so weak and ridiculous. Jack shook his head, sitting on the edge of the bed and laying a careful hand over your stomach.

"A few days... You've been in an out of consciousness." his calm, deep, voice relaxed you, moving your bandaged arm to lay your hand on his.

"Wh-what about the-" you looked down, ashamed, worried, scared. His hand tightened around yours making you hiss as the wounds tightened. He relaxed his hold but didn't move his hand away and you're grateful for the silent rock he's become, the support he's giving you.

"It... It's fine, they're... they're little fighters they are." Jess said, sitting on the chair on the other side of your bed before rubbing her eyes. She looks horrible. You don't want to know how you look.

"They?" you ask, eyes drooping, tired.

"They don't want to confirm yet, but yes... they... twins..." Jack interrupted Jess just as she was about to speak, earning himself a glare. His voice, however, is happy and relieved. His face is turned to you and he squeezes your hand affectionately again, much gentler this time around. It still twinges, but it's ok.

"You.. want... them...?" you ask, yawning and reclining further in the bed. You couldn't see the smile adorning his face. But you did hear his words.

"More than anything in this world."

\--------

It was a couple of hours later, rested and feeling slightly better, that the cops decided to ask what had happened. Unsure what to say, you stuck to the half truth, that you had been abducted, kept isolated from the world, and that a crazy man had tried to kill you or exorcise you or something of the sort. You didn't tell them much, not that you could. The memories of the time spent in your fathers presence are fuzzy, cloudy, like something was trying to keep you from remembering fully. It feels weird, because although you can tell something is amiss, although you know, in theory, what had happened, your mind automatically draws a blank or thinks of something completely unrelated. You don't blame it, you don't pry too hard into your own memories, thinking that if time was right it would come to you. The feeling of how uncomfortable the thought even made you further convinced you to try and not remember. 

Jess remained almost day and night with you. When you finally managed to convince her to go home she only did so reluctantly. 

The doctors however, come and go, doing routine checks, telling you that you were pregnant, that your children were safe and ok, although with some oddities that they will have to check further along the pregnancy to be able to determine the source, and that, indeed, it was twins. They couldn't determine the sex, but you didn't particularly care.

They were safe. After all of this, after all the suffering, the pain, the torture that you couldn't remember, they were safe. Your sigh of relief was followed by the similar tears that night when Jack climbed into the room. Jess had finally gone home for a shower, some food and much deserved rest.

The sight of his unmasked face had your eyes tear up almost instantly. He held a lovely Butterfly Weed bouquet, a single black rose in the middle. It was beautiful. And as he held you as you laughed, as you cried, as all your pain and fear and anguish came crashing down on you, you didn't know what to do with yourself. And as Jack holds you close, his hands gently craddling your stomach, he spoke to the life growing inside of you.

"I promise to always keep you safe."

He looked up at you, his non existing eyes dripping in black, a small loving smile on his lips that took your breath away and calmed your breathing.

\-----------

"So, uh... what happened?" your question obviously catches Jack by surprise, who is laying down next to you, 3 days after you had woken up, hands wrapped around your waist and laying securely on your stomach. Your wounds are healing nicely, you're deemed safe to leave in a few days you've been guaranteed.

"I uh..." he laughs, embarrassed, before grabbing your wrist gently, tapping on the bell.

"Tracking chip." he mumbles, pressing his face to your neck. You chuckle, slightly creeped out but very glad for his psychotic stalker behavior which had definitely saved your, and your babies, life. Although the thought of being a mother scared you, the thought of losing the life growing within you scared you more. You were young, but then... you loved Jack... and he loved the two little demons inside you. Who were you to deny him such happiness?

"And what else?" you question, wanting more information than the one given.

"Don't worry about it... just... he won't be ever bothering you anymore."

You don't question it. His kiss to your shoulder makes you smile in bliss.

His words, however, almost get lost on your ears, drifting to sleep in his arms.

"It's alright now, I've got you. And I won't let you go again. Never again."

\--------

The day you're given the go to leave the hospital you're wondering why your parents haven't called or visited. You don't really pay it much attention, since they were probably, again, on an extended honeymoon. The police had left a voice message and a letter, you had done the same. You would ask Jack if you could go visit your parents, but for now, you needed to rest. You were sure your parents would be ecstatic to become grandparents. You really wished to tell them.

Before you had left the hospital Jess had hugged and kissed you until you had to push her away with a giggle. She'd made you promise to keep her informed on how you were doing, to send regular pictures of yourself as you grew, even joking that she'd definitely want a picture of you once you'd reached her own size. You did promise of course, knowing without a doubt you'd be keeping the diary updated and sharing it with her. It had become ritual and comfortable anyways.

The drive back to the river however is long. Jack lets you see your surroundings, where you're going, the world outside flying past you in blurs of color. You body is sore but relaxed, some soft music playing over the radio. You wouldn't mind spending the rest of your life like this... calm.

\-------

Eight months later, the sound of two crying voices fills the cabin.

You don't know who the nurse is, or why she is shaking, or why she seems to be so afraid. You don't care. 

The babies, twins indeed, are beautiful. They're small and their skin is a light grey, and they have small, pointed teeth. They're girls, your pained, tired mind screams at you, a smile spreading over your lips as you cry. You are not sure if it's out of happiness or pain.

"Felicity and Nadia." 

You smile as Jack moves to your side, taking one of the girls, Felicity, into his arms, a look of pure amazement on his features. The endless tears of his have stopped falling, just as yours begin to flow over your cheeks.

You barely hear the commotion as the door is closed.

"These are perfect names, [Name]." he mumbles. You hear awe in his voice, and love. 

A dozen black roses adorn the room, their scent sweet. 

"I love you, Jack." you mumble, handing Nadia over to her father. You are tired beyond belief. You'll just rest a bit. You have years to spend with your family. 

You spend a few moments to ponder what your baby girls will eat, before you drift off into sleep, as Jack smiles at you in gratitude. 

"Good night, my sweet silver memory."

 

The End.


	28. The Real Ending

The End.

Dear [Name],

I've met with a terrible fate. And I've been the cause for several of them myself. 

it's been... years since I've last talked to you, even in thoughts. 12 years I think, maybe 13. You lose track of time when you're running. I'm so tired of running... of hiding... of not living. I lost everything [Name]... I've lost so much and caused so much pain.

Your children though, they're beautiful. Felicity and Nadia have grown into beautiful young women, though I can see that Felicity is more of the Big Sister of the two. It would make sense in a way, she was the oldest wasn't she? Theyr skin is a beautiful silvery grey, teeth sharp and small and white. They don't look much like you to be honest... their eyes do though. Those eyes that I always loved so much form my best friend. Gods how I miss seeing you smile and laugh.

I don't think you have an idea what a shock it was to hear several news on the TV. It was the only thing that told me to run. I'm happy I did. But no matter how much I ran, they'd find me and I'd have to run again... I caused so much pain [Name].

Cath... your team lead. Drowned I think? I'm unsure, but it was weird. They just found her, in her living room, lungs full o water... dead... I didn't know her too well though. I knew you didn't know her well either. It still came as a shock when a mutual acquaintance told me of her death, not long after your disappearance. 

I haven't heard from your family... I'm starting to doubt I ever will... actually I know I never will... it's been 12 years... 12 years of them being officially declared missing after you had been found...

Uhm, Ange was found a few weeks after you were found at the silver factory, her organs missing. I'm unsure what happened to your other housemates though. The house has been empty for years, and I was no friend of theirs but as far as I understood they've been missing as well. Maybe I'm not the only one running.

At least I didn't see her rotting.

Not like you... hollowed, rotten... dead...

I wish you had killed them... all of them. Your father, Jack, Markus... me... I wish they, we, would all be rotting now, instead of... you...

I don't know why I'm writing this. I just miss you. Sometimes someone teases me with pictures of you, of recordings of you. He used to do the same thing after I'd gone to the facility. They thought I was crazy you know, when i started talking about a man with no eyes, of how he'd killed you, of the blue mask. They all thought I was crazy, the police, they... And then, I was saved... I wish I had stayed there, to die. But I didn't... I caused so much pain [Name].

And that note, his words, the note you had held clutched in your rotten hands, your flesh falling off onto the floor. I can still see it now, in front of me, it'll always haunt me:

"Thank you for having given me what I always wanted, something the like of my own"

He didn't even wait five months until... after they... were born.

It's been so long running. I know they're after me, I knew then and I can tell you, I know it now. Everyone I touch dies, everyone I meet disappears. I have to be cursed, I must be cursed because I caused it all. Giving someone an innocent little game, gone, selling my house to someone, gone, causing a car accident and apologizing to the sister, gone, being saved from insanity... gone... And there are so many more! So much pain, so much death... 

But I'm happy, [Name]. I must stop running now. I must give in, stop this madness, stop being the cause for so much, stop missing you all the time. At least when I die, it'll be while staring into your eyes, doubled, in front of me, looking into the eyes of my dead best friend. Of the one who started it all.

Oh! They cry black. That's... interesting...

So I'm glad you heard my story, that you stuck through and read every word. I wonder if you, [Name], ever thought of your dear old friend Jess, if she missed you.

I do. I miss you.

And I'm glad you decided to look for me, to know what happened, for everything to be revealed.

I'm happy you decided to know the real truth.

 

 

You shouldn't have done that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus it ends, such a long part of my life has been completed.   
> I would hereby like to do a few shout outs to all the lovely people that have helped me through this.
> 
> Special thanks goes to: LadyLyacaria for being the beta and the best friend I could ever wish for, for sticking with me through thick and thin and finding the stuff I didn't see right from the start.  
>  I would love to thank zeepaarden for the lovely support, art and for being someone I could count on. You are amazing.
> 
> Special thanks to all loyal readers who have stuck through this and given me faith to continue when I was looking down and in the dumps and willing to give up. You are amazing.
> 
> And thank you to YOU, reading this, for having stuck through to the end.
> 
> I'll probably be releasing a small little explanatory text soon, but for now: BREAK!
> 
> Love SIlks


End file.
